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there was much waving of hands 


The Rambler Club’s 
Gold Mine 

BY W. CRISPIN SHEPPARD 


AUTHOR OF 

"THE RAMBLER CLUB AFLOAT’* 

•‘THE RAMBLER CLUB’S WINTER CAMP” 

“THE RAMBLER CLUB IN THE MOUNTAINS” 

“THE RAMBLER CLUB ON CIRCLE T RANCH” 

“THE RAMBLER CLUB AMONG THE LUMBERJACKS” 
“THE RAMBLER CLUB’S AEROPLANE” 

“THE RAMBLER CLUB’S HOUSEBOAT” 


Illustrated by the Author 



> ) i 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

PHIIyADEIvPH I A 
MCMXII 






COPYRIGHT 
1912 BY 
THE PENN 
PUBLISHING 
COMPANY 



Gold Mine 


Introduction 


The boys who appear in this story are 
those who had the adventures related in 
“ The Rambler Club Afloat,” “ The Rambler 
Club’s Winter Camp,” and “ The Rambler 
Club in the Mountains.” They are now in 
the state of Washington, where we meet them 
just after the close of some lively weeks de- 
scribed in “ The Rambler Club Among the 
Lumberjacks.” 

During a forest fire the boys have saved 
the life of Wanatoma, an aged Indian warrior, 
and he, out of gratitude, has imparted to them 
a secret long guarded — the location of a rich 
deposit of gold in the far-off mountains. 

The boys determine to set out in search of 
“ The Rambler Club’s Gold Mine,” as they 
call it, undaunted by the thought of possible 
dangers which the wilderness may have in 
store for them. Life amid the solitudes of 
nature, with only the sky as a canopy, has 
taught them the lesson that hardships and 
3 


4 


Introduction 


discomforts are sure to come, and must be 
met with a cheerful spirit. 

During the journey both men and wild 
animals put their courage to a severe test. 
But each set-back arouses within them only 
a more determined spirit to conquer every 
difficulty. 

In “ The Rambler Club’s Aeroplane,” the 
next book, is related how the boys learned to 
use an airship and the many stirring adven- 
tures which befall them while navigating the 
air in Wyoming. 


W. Crispin Sheppard. 


Contents 


I. 

The Map . 

• 

• 

9 

II. 

Pete is Amused 

• 

• 

22 

III. 

All Aboard ! 

• 

• 

40 

IV. 

The “Osprey” 

• 


52 

V. 

The Other Boat 



66 

VI. 

Captain Jere . 



75 

VII. 

The Indian 

• 


90 

VIII. 

Midnight 

• 


103 

IX. 

The Bronchos . 

• 


123 

X. 

On the Trail . 

• 


*4 7 

XI. 

The Runaway . 

• 


159 

XII. 

The Lost Packhorse 



163 

XIII. 

The Big Cat . 



182 

XIV. 

“Where is Dick ? ” . 

• 


190 

XV. 

Risky Business . 

• 

• 

203 

XVI. 

Hide-and-Seek . 

• 

• 

214 

XVII. 

Some One Turns Up 

• 

• 

221 

XVIII. 

The Wrestling Match . 

• 


230 

XIX. 

Bob Loses .... 

• 


247 

XX. 

Gold Creek 

• 


256 

XXI. 

Along the Creek 

• 


275 

XXII. 

Cap Takes a Hand . 



285 

XXIII. 

Gold ! 

• 

• 

298 


6 























Illustrations 


There was Much Waving of Hands 
“ It's a Gold Mine They’re After ” 

Its Little Eyes Were Snapping 
He Nimbly Dodged 

“ Ye Can’t Stake Out Any Claims Here 


PAGE 

Frontispiece ^ 
. 76 ^ 

. 164^ 

• 231 

” • 277 


The Rambler Club’s Gold Mine 



The Rambler Club’s Gold Mine 


CHAPTER I 

THE MAP 

“ Yes, fellows, I guess we’re in for a lot 
more adventures; finding that mine isn’t 
going to be so easy — mountains to climb, 

swift streams to ford, and ” 

“ Lots of wild animals between us and the 
gold, Bob Somers,” finished Dick Travers, 
with a chuckle, as he shied a towel in the 
direction of stout Dave Brandon, who lay in 
his bunk, with one leg hanging over the side. 

“ And whoever imagined that good old 
Wanatoma, just because he thinks the 
Ramblers saved his life, would have given 

us his great secret, so that ” 

“ Listen to him,” chirped little Tom Clifton. 
“Thinks! — thinks! Why, the Ramblers did 
save his life ; isn’t that so, Jacky Conroy? ” 
He turned toward a tall, athletic-looking 
boy sitting near the stove. 

9 


10 


The Rambler Club’s 

“ No mistake about it, Tommy ; that forest 
fire was almost the end of poor old Wanna. 
And the way he’s acted about this gold 
mine shows he’s made of the right stuff. 
Still ” 

The big lad rose to his feet, began to 
whistle discordantly, and grinned as five pairs 
of scornful eyes were leveled toward him. 

The boys were on a visit to Tim Lovell’s 
uncle, a lumberman and mill owner whose 
logging camp was situated on the Columbia 
River in the state of Washington. At first 
Jack, who was a city boy, had found that 
roughing it was not altogether to his liking. 
There were many discomforts ; bugs and 
other insects, both crawling and flying, 
seemed to have no manners whatever ; and 
his nice white hands sometimes got sadly 
begrimed with dirt. 

But, gradually, life in the deep forest 
among the lumberjacks had awakened an- 
other spirit within him — a determination to 
show his chums that he could, if he chose, be 
just as good a woodsman as they. With this 
dawning of a new feeling, his dislikes began 
to vanish — that is, when the weather wasn’t 


Gold Mine 


11 


rainy or cold and the boys didn’t drag him 
too far away from camp. 

The big lad’s load whistling was brought 
to an abrupt close by a pillow which thudded 
hard against him. 

“ Oh, you rude Tim ! ” he cried ; and stout 
Dave Brandon smiled, as he watched his six 
friends sending the soft missile from one to 
another, and kept on smiling even when it 
collided violently with his head. 

“ For goodness’ sake, Jack, don’t have any 
more doubts,” he drawled. “ When you do, 
something nearly always hits me. What do 
I think? Don’t think — I’m trying to sleep.” 
He gave the pillow a mighty shove which 
sent it in a shapeless mass on the floor, and 
closed his eyes. 

“ As we were sayin’,” grinned Jack Conroy, 
when a hearty chorus of groans had subsided, 
“it was mighty nice of the old Indian to do 
it ; but, honest, I don’t like to see you poor 
chaps goin’ around thin kin’ you’ll be million- 
aires before the winter’s over.” 

“ You can’t see us think,” chirped Tim 
Lovell. 

“ Nor discover it, either — very often,” said 


12 


The Rambler Club’s 

the big lad, witheringly. “ Quit jokin', 
Timmy. Now, for savin' his life, old Wanna 
gives the crowd his mine ; he’s too old an’ 
feeble to bother about it himself, he says. 
But ” He paused impressively. 

“ Well ? ” demanded Tim. 

“ Who knows whether it’s really a gold 
mine or not? Maybe Wanna is mistaken ” 

“ Mistaken nothing ! ” snorted Tim. 
“ Didn’t we have the quartz in our hands ? 
Didn’t we see the yellow specks shinin’ all 
through it like little stars in a cloudless sky ? ” 

“ Oh, my ! What book have you been read- 
ing now? ” asked Bob. 

“ Do you think that a real, live, bona fide 
Indian like Wanatoma could be mistaken ? ” 
persisted Tim. “ You make me tired, Jacky 
Conroy.” 

The big lad came back to the attack with 
an exasperating grin. 

“ Supposin’ there is a mine, are any o’ you 
chaps really silly enough to imagine for eight 
seconds at a stretch that we can find it by 
that queer scrawl o’ yours, Bob Somers? 
Looks to me like those Egyptian hiero — 
hiero ” 


Gold Mine 


*3 


“ Help him out, somebody — do, "sniffed Tim. 

“ Hieroglyphics," came in sepulchral tones 
from the bunk. 

“ Score another for the literary boy," laughed 
Sam Randall. “ Bet he even knows how to 
spell it." 

“ Jack's limit is nine letters," said Tim. 

“ See here, fellows," broke in Bob Somers, 
warningly, “ we're making too all-fired much 
racket about this thing. Your voice isn't any 
gentle whisper, Jack ; and if it should ever 
get noised about the camp that we're going 
off on a search for a gold mine, why " 

“ The noise would become a perfect din of 
hurrying feet," interrupted Dick Travers. 
“ No joking, Conroy. I don’t know how 
many times you've been howling out loud, 
just as though you wanted to advertise the 
whole business." 

“ I'll bet there wasn't anybody around," 
growled Jack. 

“ But a chap can't always tell. And the 
idea of Conroy being sure about anything ! 
Doesn’t that jar you ? " 

“ Something else will, if you keep up that 
line o' talk much longer." 


H 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Trot out your map, Bob,” went on Dick, 
with an air of scorn. “ You may laugh, Jack, 
but we’re crackerjack woodsmen. I know it 
seems hard to a chap who doesn’t under- 
stand ” 

“ Cut it out ! ” howled Jack. “ An’ see 
here, Tommy Clifton, don’t giggle like that 
again — mind now. Bring out your great gold 
mine map, Bob Somers, an’ ” 

“ For goodness’ sake, Jack, put a muffler on 
that voice,” cried Dick, aghast ; “ curb it I 
Suppose Pete Colliver should be hanging 
around — or Ben Vincent — or Booney — or some 
of the men ! Remember what Mr. Lovell told 
us — keep mum, mum, and mummer.” 

“ Let’s form the United Society o’ Whis- 
perers,” scoffed Jack. 

“ Quit scrapping. Here’s the map, fellows,” 
interposed Bob. 

He carefully spread out a sheet of brown 
paper upon a table in the center of the cabin, 
while Jack rudely elbowed the others aside. 

“ I’ll let you see it one at a time,” he an- 
nounced, kindly. 

Heavy lines traced the rude plan shown 
here. 


Gold Mine 






The Map that Bob Drew 


16 The Rambler Club’s 

“ Why, it doesn’t look a bit like that 
Egyptian thing with a jaw-breakin’ name 
Jack spoke about,” remarked Tim, after a 
critical glance over Bob’s shoulder. 44 I’d call 
it a picture of a tree in a hurricane.” 

“ Or struck by lightning,” suggested 
Tommy, squeezing in between the others. 

“ But it’s plenty good enough for our pur- 
pose,” said Bob, with a smile. 44 A represents 
our present position on the map ; B the Co- 
lumbia River ; C our first stop ; ” he ran his 
finger along the lines ; 44 D the direction we 
have to take ; E one of the Cascade Moun- 
tains ; and F, away around on the opposite 
side,” — he lowered his voice to a whisper — 44 a 
stream which flows down the slope — Wanna 
called it 4 Gold Creek.’ We have to follow its 
course until a big bend is reached, and there, 
marked on this map by an X, is located ” 

44 Whisper it,” murmured Sam Randall. 

44 The Rambler Club’s Gold Mine.” 

44 Ah! That has a mighty fine sound, 
Bob.” 

44 Now the problem is simple ” 

44 Corkin’ simple,” scoffed Jack. 44 Why on 
earth don’t you make a problem in algebra 


Gold Mine 


»7 

out o’ it ? Let A, B, C, D, E, F represent the 

line o’ most resistance, an’ X — er — er ” 

“ Stuck again,” laughed Bob. “ We have 
to settle it on earth, Jack. Now, fellows, this 
sketch on the right gives an idea of the shape 
of the mountain.” 

“ Draw it all yourself? ” grinned Jack. 

“ Yes ; Wanatoma supplied the description, 
and I furnished the motive power,” laughed 
Bob. “ He says we can’t help recognizing it 
by the peculiar blunt top. How’s this for a 
plan ? Suppose we take a lumber schooner as 
far as C — that’s a good-sized town — buy our 

outfit and horses and ” 

“ An’ who’s goin’ to carry the grub?” 
broke in Jack, sarcastically. “ Wee Tommy, 
here? Or is each fellow supposed to take 
along his own sandwiches an’ canteen o’ 
water, an’ shoot at every bird or animal that 

pops into sight ? Why, this gold mine is ” 

“ Sli-sh ! ” began Dick, warningly. “ Don’t, 
Jack ; curb it.” 

“ It’s in the deep wilderness ; an’ if the 
bunch should ever get lost, sure as thunder 
it would be when there wasn’t a speck o’ grub 
within twenty-eight miles.” 


18 The Rambler Club’s 

“ Oh, float away, Jacky," put in Sam Ran- 
dall, scornfully. “ When you find the Ram- 
blers lost just let me know. Since Bob 
Somers formed this club we've had all sorts of 
adventures in Wisconsin, Oregon and Wyom- 
ing, and aren't going to get lost in any Wash- 
ington forest, eh, fellows ? You and Tim 
don't know us yet. Go ahead, Bob ; horses, 
you were saying ? Then, of course, we’ll need 
a couple of pack animals." 

“ Pack animals ? " grinned Jack. “ Maybe 
you mean pachyderms, Sammy ? " 

“ Oh, you’re really too funny for anything," 
broke in Clifton, whose forehead was still 
puckered into a fierce frown from Jack’s 
allusion to “ Wee Tommy." 

“ Well, boys, I move that we start day after 
to-morrow," went on Bob. “ Hit the trail, 
and hit it hard, until we reach X." 

A long-drawn-out groan, coming from the 
direction of the bunk, attracted general atten- 
tion toward Dave Brandon. 

44 Well?" asked Bob. 

The stout boy’s eyes beamed quizzically. 

“ Only thinking, Bob," he answered. 

“ What about? " 


Gold Mine 


J 9 


44 Well, don't you know, we really ought to 
be back in Kingswood now, deeply absorbed 
in the acquisition of knowledge? " 

44 Acqui-acqui-sition ! You don't let any o' 
those big ones get by you, I notice," grunted 
Jack. 

44 Yes ; we have already overstayed our 

time," went on Dave, 44 and this trip " 

44 It’ll only take a week or two," supplied 
Bob. 

44 And do you think for a moment, David 
Brandon, that we could do any studying 
without settling this thing first ? " demanded 
Sam Randall. 44 Well, I rather guess not ! " 

44 Then we must hurry it up, and get back 
to the high school as soon as possible. As it 
is, there’s a lot of hard work before us in 
catching up with our studies." 

44 It won’t be difficult, with nearly the whole 
term before us," said Dick, in positive tones. 

44 Education is the lever which uplifts the 

world," sighed Dave. 44 Now " 

44 Switch off! ’’ cried Jack. 

44 Such gems of thought are lost upon him," 
laughed Sam. 

44 Let’s get back to business," said Bob. 


20 


The Rambler Club’s 


41 We needn’t expect to have any picnic on 
this trip.” He glanced toward Conroy, whose 
face failed to indicate the slightest enthusiasm. 
“ If you want to back out, Jack, now’s the 
time.” 

“Who said anything about backin’ out?” 
growled the big lad. 

He walked off and threw himself at full 
length on a bench at the end of the cabin. 
His eyes began to rove over the cheerful 
interior. Somehow, it was just the sort of a 
den to fill any healthy boy’s heart with de- 
light. Seven bunks were built against the 
walls ; two lamps suspended from the ceiling 
swung over the center table, while a num- 
ber of tasteful prints were scattered about. 

Jack felt that on a cold day, with the wind 
howling past the corners of the cabin, and the 
whirr and clank of the windmill blending in 
with the blasts, it would be a mighty pleasant 
place in which to stay. And yet here were 
these boys ready to leave its comforts and 
start off on a difficult and perhaps dangerous 
expedition with as much unconcern as though 
they were merely going on a visit to the saw- 
mills at the base of the cliffs. 


Gold Mine 


21 


“ I do wish to thunder old Wanna hadn’t 
said a word ’bout that wonderful secret o’ 
his,” reflected Jack, his forehead knit into a 
frown. Perhaps, even if they did succeed in 
reaching their destination, it might be to 
have all their fond hopes dashed to the 
ground. “ But still,” the frown vanished 
and a quizzical smile played about the 
corners of his lips, “ if stout, easy-going 
Dave Brandon is willing to take the risk — 
why ” 

And just then his eyes caught sight of a 
youthful face flattened against the window- 
panes eagerly peering in at the group of boys 
who still surrounded the table, animatedly 
discussing their plans. 

The pressing process had so weirdly dis- 
torted the already irregular features of the 
youth that Jack began to roar with laughter, 
whereupon the face suddenly vanished, and 
the next instant a terrific bang sounded on the 
door. 


CHAPTER II 


PETE IS AMUSED 

“ Pete Colliver ! ” gasped Bob Somers. 
Hastily he snatched up the map and stuffed it 
into a table drawer, while Tim Lovell sprang 
to the door, which was shaking under the re- 
peated attacks of a heavy fist. 

As it swung wide open, Pete’s short, stocky 
figure was silhouetted sharply against the 
clear, cold light of the autumn day. A breath 
of fresh, invigorating air, just sharp enough 
to send the blood tingling through healthy 
veins, and laden with the pleasant scent of 
forest and field, swept in. Several brown and 
golden leaves, dancing merrily across the clear- 
ing, made straight for the sill and flitted inside 
the door, while through the crisp air came the 
chatter of a flock of swiftly-flying birds. 

Pete Colliver’s sun-tanned face wore an 
odd expression of injured innocence and in- 
dignation, and his eyes were blinking cu- 
riously. 

“ Wal, wal 1 ” he exclaimed, in a deep, 
22 


Gold Mine 


23 


hoarse voice, “ I was a-thinkin’ mebbe ye 
wouldn’t let me in. Never used to keep your 
door locked, did ye ? Gettin’ kind o’ pertic’- 
lar now, hey ? What was the whole bunch 
doin’ around that table?” 

He stuffed his hands deep in his trousers 
pockets, and shot a swift glance at Jack’s 
grinning face. 

“ Awful sorry to have kept you waitin’, 
Mr. Colliver. Please accept our apologies, an’ 
forget it,” said the big lad, soothingly. 

“ Fine words, but they don’t answer my 
question, feller.” 

“Great day, Pete, isn’t it?” began Bob. 
“ Suppose you just came in from the woods? 
How’s work going on ? Sit down. No — not 
tired ? Well, I guess if any one of us had 
been swinging an axe as hard as you do, Pete, 
we’d be a bit weary, all right.” 

“ Not to mention the hours — the awful 
long hours, I mean,” put in Dick. “ Why — 
honest 

Pete regarded them calmly, and gave the 
back of his slouch hat, which always seemed 
on the point of falling off, a smart tap. 

“I’ve been a-thinkin’,” he remarked, slowly, 


The Rambler Club’s 


24 

“ that I'll quit the camp for a while, an' 
mebbe,” his blinking eyes swept the group, 
“ you fellers wouldn’t mind havin’ me along 
with ye? Thar ain’t nothin’ what I don’t 
know ’bout campin’, an’ as for shootin’, when 
I p’int me gun at any warmint it’s as good as 
cookin’ over the fire.” 

“ Goodness ! ” cried Tommy. “ Look ! 
Dave’s actually fallen asleep. Hi, hi ! Wake 
up, Dave ! Hi, hi ! ” 

44 Well, did you ever ? ” roared Dick. “ All 
the same, bet he’s been having some dandy 
inspirations for that great book of his ! ” 

“ Inspershuns ? ” queried Pete, suspiciously. 

44 Oh, it’s not a dangerous disease ; you’ll 
never catch it,” grinned Jack ; 44 none of these 
chaps ever did.” 

44 Speak for yourself, Jack Conroy,” retorted 
Tom, with a touch of indignation. 

“ Wal, this here holler don’t answer no 
questions,” said Pete, dryly. 44 Mind ! I ain’t 
beggin’ to go ; but if ye want a corkin’ guide, 
say the word, an’ I’ll drop me axe any time 
like it was red hot.” 

“Well, the fact is,” began Dick, “er — er — 
that is ” 


Gold Mine 


25 


“ Yes, that’s the idea exactly,” supplemented 
Bob. “ You see, if we needed a guide, Pete, 
we wouldn’t want any one else but you. The 
crowd ” 

“ Don’t be skeered ; I won't hurt ye. Jist 
say what ye mean ; an’ I kin see what that is 
— ye don’t want none o’ Pete Colliver ; an' 
Pete Colliver ain’t a-gettin’ down on his knees 
to beg ye, nuther ; no, he ain’t. Jist lock yer 
door arter I gits out, an' fix yer peepers on 
that 'ere table ag’in. An' ” — he paused, his 
little eyes snapping curiously — “ if ye say the 
word, I’ll yank that snoozer out o’ his roost in 
jist three seconds, eh ? ” 

This kind offer was smilingly declined. 

Pete turned on his heel. 

“ Not going, are you? " asked Bob. 

“ Not afore I tells ye somethin’,” he an- 
swered, impressively. “ I had a wrastlin' 
match this mornin' with big Jim Lawson, 


“ Who won ? ” asked Jack, mildly. 

“ Who won ! ” snorted Pete, with a fierce 
frown. “ That's a fine question ter ask — now, 
ain’t it? Ain’t ye all felt me muscle ? Did 
any o’ ye ever see a stronger arm’n that, hey ? ” 


26 


The Rambler Club’s 


He held it out for inspection right under little 
Tom Clifton’s nose, whereupon Tom stepped 
hastily back. “ Ye ain’t wery good on an- 
swerin’ questions to-day ; but there’s an easy 
one fur ye.” 

“ Not bad — not so bad,” grinned Jack, “but 
a chap loses sometimes.” 

“ Not with an arm like that he don’t, young 
feller. In a couple o’ minutes Jim wasa-lyin’ 
flatter’n that fat snoozer over there. An’ d’ye 
know what Jim says?” 

“ We will in a second,” murmured Jack. 

“ 1 Pete, ye ain’t got yer eq’al in ther hull 
camp ! ’ — them was his words. Come on 
outside, big un ; I’ll jist show ye how it’s 
done.” 

“ That makes the twenty-seventh time 
you’ve asked me, Pete,” laughed Jack ; “ I’m 
countin’ 'em. Haven’t finished readin’ my 
book on wrestlin’ rules yet.” 

“ Maybe some o’ you’ll have to try it one 
day,” said Pete, ominously. “ I’m a-goin’.” 

The boys watched his stocky figure disap- 
pear out the door, and pass slowly across the 
window, while the breeze flung back his loud 
tuneless whistling. 


Gold Mine 




2 7 

Then Dick, with a gesture of impatience, 
slammed the door shut. 

“ There ! What did I tell you, Jacky ? ” he 
growled. “ But, oh, no ; you wouldn’t listen. 
And now your hollering’s done the business — 
Pete knows something, as sure as you live ; 
anybody can see that.” 

“ An’ blame it all on me ! ” cried Jack. 
“Keep the door locked! Stand around the 
table like a lot o’ ninnies ! Get as flustered 
as a Jabberwock ! An’ just because Pete 
sees it imagine he knows all about our gold 
mine ! ” 

“ There he goes again ! ” wailed Dick. 
“Let’s muzzle him, fellows. We ought to 
call that — that place some other name. The 
Jabberwock, eh?” 

“ Oh, you make me tired,” sneered Jack. 
“ Never saw such silly duffers.” 

“ Come — come, fellows ! ” laughed Bob. 
“ Too bad, if any harm’s done, Jack,” he 
added, severely. “ If you speak those two 
words out loud again ” 

“ There’ll be a speedy trial for the offender,” 
laughed Sam, “ and summary vengeance of a 
terrible sort will be wreaked upon him — hello 


28 


The Rambler Club’s 


— dinner time already ? ” He raised his 
voice : “ That you, Booney ? ” 

“ ’Deed it am, sar ! ” came an answering 
voice. “ Shall I come in ? ” 

“ As far as you like ! ” yelled Dick. 

The door swung open, and Daniel Boone 
King, a very dark spot in the landscape, 
stood on the threshold, grinning good-na- 
turedly, and showing a row of dazzling teeth. 
“ I’se here, sar,” he said. 

“ So our eyes have already told us, Daniel,” 
chuckled Jack. 

“ An’ de dinner am ready.” 

“ A fact which our olfactory nerves have 
also perceived,” remarked Bob, with a smile. 
“ Dave — I say, Dave — dinner ! ” 

“ Wonderful thing what a few simple words 
like that will do,” said Sam, as the stout boy 
sprang up with remarkable alacrit}'. 

His round face beamed forth good nature ; 
a whimsical light deepened in his eyes. 

“ That’s a dandy! And just as I finished 

my beauty nap, too. Booney ” 

“ Yes, Mistah Dave.” 

“ Is there plenty of those sweet potatoes and 
nice corn pone ? ” 


Gold Mine 


29 


“ Yessir ! ” 

“ Good ! But there won’t be very long.” 

44 Not when you’re around, Mistah Dave,” 
laughed Booney, as the door promptly 
slammed behind the group. 

Over the air came a steady musical hum 
from busy sawmills far down on the beech, 
while columns of yellowish smoke rose lazily 
against a mass of pale white clouds. 

The boys’ wild dash across the clearing 
came to an end when Mr. Lovell, smiling 
genially, appeared in the doorway of his 
cabin. 

Uncle Stanley was a tall, slight, active man, 
with a pointed beard. He wore glasses, which 
gave him quite the air of a college professor. 
His eyes beamed with a kindly light, while 
his voice had a cheery ring, which, from the 
first, had won him the hearts of the crowd. 

44 Well, boys,” he said, 14 1 suppose you are 
ready for dinner ? ” 

44 It won’t have time to get cold,” laughed 
Bob. 

They hastily fell in behind him, and pres- 
ently were seated around the table, in a 
pleasant little dining-room, surveying the 


3 ° 


The Rambler Club’s 


good things to eat with great satisfaction. 
Nothing for which any healthy boy could 
wish seemed lacking, except pies, tarts and 
ice-cream. But Booney had made some kind 
of astonishing pudding, which, at any rate, 
tasted sweet, and a great quantity soon dis- 
appeared. 

“ I suppose your packing is all done, 
boys ? ” 

There was a touch of sadness in Uncle 
Stanley’s tone. He looked at the bright faces 
before him, and sighed at the thought of their 
parting so soon. 

“ Everything,” answered Tim — “ our guns, 
even, are oiled and polished. ” 

Mr. Lovell pushed back his chair. 

“ I onty wish I could go with you, lads,” 
he said, slowly. “ It pleases me to think, 
however, that in moments of danger you 
have already proven yourselves cool and 
resourceful.” 

Jack grinned complacently. 

“ Still, I wish to impress you with the fact 
that, while it is necessary to have the spirit 
and ability to conquer danger, it is far wiser 
to go forth with the determination to avoid 


Gold Mine 


3 1 


it. Now, I suppose, none of you feels that it 
would be best to postpone your trip until the 
early spring, when ” 

A chorus, in which Jack’s voice was 
strangely feeble, assured him that they had 
not. 

“ Very well, then ! But, boys, don’t let 
your hopes run too high. Wanatoma’s gold 
mine may prove a myth ; or, perhaps, if it 
really does exist, the value may be small. 
You must, of course, be prepared for dis- 
appointment.” 

“ Guess we’ll be able to stand it all right,” 
said Tim, with a grin. 

“ That is the proper spirit. And now, lads, 
I have a message for you.” 

“ A message for us ! ” cried Tim. 

“ Yes ; from our friend Captain Slater, 
the lumberman and former Columbia River 
skipper.” 

“ Old Cap Slater ! ” gasped Jack. 

“ Yes, again. It seems that in spite of his 
rough exterior the captain has a warm spot in 
his heart for those he likes, and, much as it 
may surprise you, the crowd seems to have 
won his favor.” 


32 


The Rambler Club’s 


The boys looked at each other in astonish- 
ment, and Jack, quite forgetting his table 
manners, burst into a roar of laughter, while 
a chorus of exclamations ran around the 
table. 

“ Well, can you ever believe it ! ” cried 
Sam. 

“ An’ he used to say such real rude things 
to us,” chirped Tim. 

“ And was so sorry when we came here,” 
laughed Bob. “ I told him it was only be- 
cause he didn’t know us.” 

“ That’s exactly what the captain says.” 
Uncle Stanley smiled genially, as his eyes ran 
from one to another. “ He thinks you’re a 
plucky lot.” 

“ But he handed me out a few big knocks, 
though,” grinned Jack. 

“ None this time, I assure you ; he has 
quite reversed his opinion, and intends to 
come over and see you off.” 

“ Bully for the Cap I ” cried Tim. “ He’s 
not a bad old sort, after all ! ” 

For some time they remained, talking over 
their plans with Tim’s uncle, then trooped 
out, to roam idly about the clearing. The 


Gold Mine 


33 


seven stopped for a moment in the long cabin 
used by the men and finally wandered over 
toward the edge of a high bluff, where they 
stopped to gaze at the always enchanting 
panorama of river and rugged shore. The 
broad Columbia stretched off, to finally be- 
come lost in a gray-purple haze. 

Be}^ond the mills, and close in shore, a 
lumber schooner, piled high above the gun- 
wales with short planks, lay at anchor, ready 
for her long trip down the river. 

“ Feast your eyes on the < Osprey/ fel- 
lows/' remarked Bob Somers ; “ Don Mason, 
Master.” 

“ The staunch little craft which is to be en- 
trusted with the precious cargo of Rambler 
boys,” said Sam. “ Say, it's pretty low in the 
water now ; don't you think when Dave steps 
aboard it may be in danger of foundering?” 

“ Most likely there'll be nothing but groan- 
ing till she gets used to the additional strain,” 
grinned Dave. “ Mighty good of your uncle, 
Tim, to arrange it for us.” 

“ You bet it was ! Unk's a dandy.” 

“ Doesn’t look as if there was room for the 
crowd,” sighed Jack, dismally. 


34 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ A thin affair like you doesn’t need very 
much,” quoth Tom, satirically. “ Dave’s the 
only one that counts. Hello — what’s that?” 

He pounced upon a roll of paper which had 
slipped from Dave Brandon’s coat pocket, 
and, eluding the stout boy’s outstretched 
hand, dashed away with a yell of triumph. 

“ Bet it’s some of that great volume he’s 
writing, fellows,” he chuckled, gleefully. 
“ Yes ! Get away, Dave Brandon. Listen ! 
Whew! What do you think? Pages 698 to 
— to — gee ! 700 ! Did you get that — 698 
to 700 ? ” 

“ Read it, slowpoke ! ” commanded Tim. 

“ Then keep him away.” 

“ Go ahead,” said Dave, good-naturedly. 
“ My limit of resistance is four against one ; 
you’re six.” 

“ Foxy lad,” murmured Tom, keeping a 
good distance off. “ Ah ! First, is the head- 
ing, 1 Life in a Lumber Camp ’ — sounds pretty 
fine, eh ? ” 

“ Read it ! ” yelled Tim. 

“ ‘ In the dense, somber forest surrounding 
the clearing lumberjacks, with axe and saw, 
were hard at work. Donkey engines, by 


Gold Mine 


35 


means of wire cables of great length, were 
dragging redwood tranks from the place 
where they had been felled over skid-roads to 
flames which sent them rumbling down to 
the sawmills below/ ” 

“ Great I ” cried Dick. “ Bully ! ” 

11 * The crack of ox-drivers’ whips often 
echoed through the forest, as these slow-footed 
animals drew heavy vehicles, piled high 
with short logs, toward the timber slides/ ” 

“ Wow ! ” quoth Sam. “ Be-au-ti-ful 1 ” 

“ 1 Altogether, life in a lumber camp must 
not only appeal to the lover of nature, but to 
those artistically inclined. Toward the dusk 

of evening, when ’ ” 

A swift movement on Dave’s part suddenly 
interrupted the reading. With a cheery laugh, 
the stout boy stepped back, stuffing his pre- 
cious pages into an inside pocket. 

“ Oh, you rude thing I ” sniffed the highly 
disgusted Tom. 

“ A thousand pities not to let us hear all 
of that perfectly lovely effusion,” said Tim. 
“ Come, Dave, that’s a good chap, hand it 
out.” 

But no amount of withering comments, 


The Rambler Club’s 


3 6 

gentle persuasion, or direful threats had the 
least effect. So Jack Conroy merely sat upon 
Tommy, figuratively and actually, for being 
so easy. 

There was nothing for them to do but 
patiently await the time when the “ Osprey,” 
Don Mason, Master, should weigh anchor. 
Jack Conroy and Dave Brandon were the only 
lads who didn’t bubble over with enthusiasm, 
and long for the great moment to arrive. 

That night, after the lamps in their cabin 
were lighted, Pete Colliver again pressed his 
face against the window-pane. 

He was promptly admitted. 

Pete immediately plumped himself down 
on the most comfortable chair, crossed his legs, 
and proceeded, by winks and extraordinary 
grimaces, to attract more than usual attention. 

“ Hello ! Got any thin’ in your eye, Pete ? ” 
asked Jack. 

“ Naw, young feller; there ain’t nothin’ 
what can even make ’em blink.” 

“ Well, what’s the matter?” 

Pete’s answer to this was a series of chuckles 
and other weird sounds even more astonishing 
than his facial contortions. 


Gold Mine 


37 

“ If you could tell us where you feel the 
worst,” suggested Tim, kindly, “ why ” 

Pete guffawed loudly. 

“ If there's anything on your mind, then ” 
— Tim beamed pleasantly — “ out with it.” 

“ Ha, ha ! ” laughed Pete. “ An' ye don't 
want no guide, hey? Don’t have to go to — 
to Africa to git big game, do ye? Expect to 
bag somethin’ whoppin' ! Ha, ha ! ” 

“ Africa — Africa ! Why, the extent o' your 
knowledge is simply surprisin',” murmured 
Jack. 

Pete’s grimaces and chuckles began again. 
Suddenly he burst into a roar of laughter, 
slapped his knees, then rose to his feet, while 
the deeply interested crowd stared at him in 
amazement. 

“ For goodness' sake, Peter,” cried Bob, 
14 tell us!” 

“ I was jist a-thinkin' o' somethin’ kinder 
funny,” explained Pete, “ an’ I guess ye don’t 
need ter know nuthin' 'bout it.” 

“ And after all our suspense ! ” protested 
Bob. 

“ How can you be so cruel ? ” added Sam. 

“ Peter is only jokin',” said Jack, hopefully. 


The Rambler Club’s 


38 

“ Not much he ain’t, feller ! ” 

Thereupon the whole crowd, with the 
exception of Dave, did their best to draw 
from the stocky boy the secret of his mirth. 

But Pete could not be in any way cajoled, 
so they finally gave it up. 

Presently, with a huge grin, he started 
toward the door, bade them good-night, and 
was gone. 

The boys looked at each other inquiringly. 

“ Well,” remarked Tim, drawing a long 
breath, “ that chap certainly knows something, 
eh, Jack? Do you deny it ? ” 

“ How can a fellow deny what he doesn’t 
know, you silly duffer?” demanded Jack, 
frowning fiercely. 

“ Now it’s certain you’ve given the whole 
thing away ! ” 

“ Like fun I have ! ” 

“ You’ll see ! Most likely everybody in 
camp’ll be taggin’ after us.” 

“ Oh, get out, Timmy ; you’ve said just as 
much about Wanna’s gold mine as I have.” 

Tim gave a gesture of despair. 

“ Can you beat it, fellows?” he wailed. 
“ There he goes again — actually — after all the 


Gold Mine 


39 


mess he’s made, too. Help — help — I mean 
help needed to make Jacky forget those two 
fateful words.” 

“ Oh, dry up ! ” howled Jack, wrathfully. 
“ Remember what happened to Tommy.” 

“ My regular job seems to be stopping a row 
every few minutes,” laughed Bob. “ If Pete 
does know our secret, scrapping about it won’t 
do a bit of good.” 

“ And no one can prevent us from finding 
— from finding that — er — er — Jabberwock,” 
added Dick. 


CHAPTER III 

ALL ABOARD ! 

The day of departure had actually come at 
last. It was a beautiful morning, with a 
brisk, cool breeze sending white clouds scud- 
ding through the blue above, while the 
Columbia’s broad surface was broken into 
choppy waves. 

The boys’ luggage — there wasn’t so very 
much of it — lay piled in a corner. Guns and 
hunting knives gleamed brightly wherever 
stray beams of sunlight found their polished 
surfaces. 

Just a few hours more ! Jack Conroy 
stared rather gloomily around. The cozy 
cabin had never looked more inviting ; strange 
how it seemed to have improved since the 
moment they decided to leave it. Dave, 
resting easily, with his feet stretched upon a 
chair, was busy scribbling something in his 
note-book. All the others were too excited 
and eager to stay in one place very long. 

40 


Gold Mine 


41 


They walked up and down, talking in low 
tones, making a tremendous effort to appear 
unconcerned, but without great success. 

“ Let’s go over by the bluff,” remarked 
Bob, presently. “ Coming, fellows ? ” 

“ Guess you expect to see the ‘ Osprey ’ take 
wing and fly away,” said Jack. 

Leaving the literary boy struggling hero- 
ically with the muse, the rest walked out, 
kicking up the yellow leaves which were 
thickly strewn about. 

For a long time they sat on a convenient 
log, their eyes often turning toward the 
“ Osprey,” whose black hull and tapering 
masts glowed one moment in light, then 
became cold and gray in the swiftly-flying 
shadows that skimmed across the landscape. 

“ Hi, hi— hello ! ” 

Pete Colliver’s tremendous voice suddenly 
reached their ears, and, upon turning quickly, 
they saw the youth approaching, with another 
lad a bit shorter lazily bringing up in the 
rear. 

“ Well, by Jove, it’s Jimmy — Jimmy of 
Sellade ! ” cried Bob, shading his eyes from 
the sun’s bright glare. 


4 2 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ So it is,” agreed Tim. “ Oh, joy ! Cheer 
up, Jacky ; Jimmy’s cornin’. Guess he’s heard 
all about the — er — er — Jabber wock, too.” 

“ An’ I don’t care if he has,” grunted Jack. 

The crowd had made the acquaintance of 
Jimmy some time before. As he came from 
Sellade, a town where the Columbia River 
steamers made a landing, they often referred 
to him as “ Jimmy of Sellade.” He, like his 
friend Pete, was a stocky, heavily-built lad, 
immensely strong, but clumsy and slow. 

Jimmy’s features were remarkably plain, 
while his expression changed about as often 
as that of an Egyptian Sphynx — at least, Sam 
Randall voiced this opinion. 

“ 1 hearn tell as you was a-leavin’, fellers,” 
exclaimed Jimmy, as he came within speaking 
distance, “ an’ I says to meself, ‘ I’ll git over 
an’ give ’em the hand-shake all ’round.’ ” 

“ Good boy ! ” said Bob, approvingly. 

Pete Colliver was grinning broadly. He 
gave a loud chuckle, and poked his chum in 
the ribs. 

“ Mebbe they’d like to have ye as a guide, 
Jimmy,” he said. 

“ I guess not,” returned Jimmy, dryly. “ I 


Gold Mine 


43 


couldn’t work fur nothin’ lessen fifty cents a 
day ; an' it might be a corkin’ hard job ter 
help ’em lug the stuff they gits.” 

Dick felt sure that Jimmy’s expression 
changed for the fraction of a second ; therefore 
he scowled fiercely at Jack, and winked sig- 
nificantly. 

“ Whar’s the fat un ? ” asked Jimmy, ab- 
ruptly. 

“ Guess he’s havin’ some more inspershuns,” 
said Pete ; “ but the big feller here says as how 
nobody else ever ketches it.” 

“ Eh ! ” Jimmy gave a start. “ What’s 
them ? ” 

“ It isn’t 4 them,’ it’s * it,’ ” gurgled Jack, 
“ eh, Tommy? Near grub time, you say? 
Good ! Yes, Jimmy, my lad, this afternoon 
— see here, Timmy, if you try to make a hay- 
stack out o’ me again, maybe only six boys 
will go ! ” 

Jack brushed away the bunches of tall grass 
which rested on his shoulder, punched Sam 
because he happened to be nearest, and an- 
swered the hail which came at that moment 
from Booney. 

Some of the lads found it rather difficult to 


44 


The Rambler Club’s 


eat breakfast, but Dave Brandon wasn’t among 
the number. There was a feeling of sup- 
pressed excitement which he didn’t seem to 
share ; even Bob was glad when the meal was 
over. 

“ I expect Captain Slater at any moment,” 
said Uncle Stanley. “He told me he would 
surely be here.” 

“ To think of the Cap actually takin’ the 
trouble to see us off,” murmured Tim ; “ ain’t 
it odd ? ” 

“ And Jimmy of Sellade, too,” laughed 
Dick. “ Our cup of joy is brimming over.” 

In another half hour, Tommy, glancing out 
the window, espied the lumberman and for- 
mer steamboat captain headed across the clear- 
ing, and the crowd, at a nod from Uncle 
Stanley, rushed out. 

Captain Slater was stout, heavy-featured, 
gray-bearded, authoritative in manner, and 
quick to take offense. 

“ Rah, rah, rah for Cap Slater ! ” yelled 
Jack. “ Now, bo}^s — one, two, three ! ” 

“ Rah, rah, rah ! ” howled a chorus. 

Their lusty yells brought Pete Colliver and 
Jimmy around the men’s cabin on a run. 


Gold Mine 


C 


4 5 


The lumberman carne striding over, the ef- 
fect of walking a considerable distance at a 
rapid rate causing him to mop his brow with 
a huge red handkerchief. 

“ Wal, my hearties I ” — he greeted them in 
a gruff, heavy voice. “ Actually ready to git 
— actually ! Howdy, Lovell ! Sorry to see 
’em go, ain’t ye? — declar’ to thunder I am; 
an’ that’s somethin’ Jere Slater never thought 
he’d be.” 

“ Oh, we knew you would, all right,” said 
Jack, with a grin. 

“ An’ they tell me yer a-goin’ with Don 
Mason ! A good, likely young skipper, thatl” 

“ Hello, old feller ! ” 

Pete’s voice rose above the captain’s. 

“ Run along ! ” growled Slater, turning 
sharply at the sound, and eyeing the lad with 
a scowl. “ Thought I know’d that voice. 
Both o’ ye kin toddle.” 

“ So we kin, when we gits ready, Cap’n,” 
retorted Pete, calmly ; “ an’ we ain’t ready yit, 
eh, Jimmy ? ” 

“ I reckon not ! ” answered Jimmy, defi- 
antly. 

“ If ye could only tote them perwerse young 


The Rambler Club’s 


46 

lubbers far away, an’ lose 'em, ye’d be doin’ 
the community a thunderin’ big sarvice,” 
growled the captain. 

“ ’Tain’t me an’ Jim’s fault if we ain’t 
a-goin’, old feller,” chuckled Pete; “ we asked 
’em.” Then, unmindful of Mr. Lovell’s pres- 
ence, he added, witlieringly, “ Sich a wonder- 
ful lot o’ dubs they is, too ! Think nobody 
ain’t good nuff fur ’em, mebbe ! Oh, yes, they 
is the goods, all right ! ” 

“ I don’t think,” sniffed Jimmy. 

“ Can’t wrastle ! Don’t even know when 
they’s sized up ter beat the band.” 

“ Shows how much good sense they’ve got 
not to want to have yer along,” remarked 
Slater. “ I seen ye a-hangin’ ’round me camp 
twice this week, an’ that’s twice too much. 
An’ now, lads,” he added, turning toward the 
others, “ ye have Jere Slater’s best wishes, an’ 
I only hopes ” 

“ They bags a hull lot o’ game,” broke in 
Pete. A most astonishing grimace distorted 
his face. “ Them mountains is full 0’ — o’ — all 
kinds o’ waluable warmints an’ sich like. If 
you an’ me, Cap’n, could only git a crack at 
sumphin, eh ? ” 


Gold Mine 


47 


“ What’s a-gittin’ inter the feller’s top- 
piece ? ” asked Slater, with a wondering stare. 
“ Never yit seen anything human put on sicli 
a face as that — it’s nuff to hurt a man’s eyes 
fur keeps ; mine is a-blinkin’ now.” 

The hour for leaving had arrived. Pres- 
ently the party began walking toward the 
boys’ cabin. 

Even Jack felt his nerves tingling with 
excitement. He gave a sigh of relief when 
their stuff had been carried outside, then 
turned for a final look at the cozy in- 
terior. 

“ Makes me feel kind of blue,” he confided 
to Tommy. “ We’ve certainly had a dandy 
time here — did you speak, Mr. Lovell ? ” 

“ I was saying,” remarked the lumberman, 
with a smile, “ that our friend ” — he nodded 
toward Dave — “ will no doubt find a great 
deal of interest to write about.” 

“ Dave Brandon’s wonderful work will 
come out in forty volumes,” chuckled Tim, 
who had overheard. “ Why, Uncle Stanley, 
you don’t know how fine life in a lumber 
camp really is until you’ve read what he has to 
say about it.” 


48 


The Rambler Club’s 


At the edge of the bluff Bob gave a loud 
yell, the others chiming in. 

An answering hail came from the “ Os- 
prey.” A sailor was soon seen jumping into a 
boat which swung astern. He cast off the 
lines and began to row ashore. 

A zigzag road led down by easy stages to 
the water. By the time they reached it, with 
Pete and Jimmy straggling along in the rear, 
the boat was bobbing up and down near the 
sawmills. 

A number of the men came out to bid the 
boys good-bye, so, for several minutes, the 
seven were kept busy shaking hands and re- 
sponding to their hearty good wishes. 

A pleasant smell of water was in the air. 
The breeze had freshened, coming in strong 
puffs which sent wicked little waves hissing 
and breaking over the beach. Great logs near 
shore moved sluggishly, sometimes entirely 
submerged by the rollers. 

Everything but the weapons was hurled 
carelessly into the bottom of the boat. Dave, 
Jack, Tom Clifton and Tim stumbled aboard 
the rocking craft, the tall boy, of course, trip- 
ping over almost every parcel. 


Gold Mine 


49 


“ Ho for the 4 Osprey ’ I ” yelled Tim. 
“ Bye, bye, Uncle Stanley and Cap’n Slater an’ 
everybody ! ” 

There was much waving of hands and 
handkerchiefs ; a loud chorus of shouts — 
then the rowlocks rattled, while the measured 
dip of the blades sent the heavily laden craft 
slowly ahead. 

“ I say, old feller — Slater ! ” 

The gruff captain frowned at Colliver’s up- 
turned face, but something in the lad’s ex- 
pression chased it immediately away, and, as 
he felt a strong tug at his sleeve, he obeyed 
the significant wink that Pete gave him, and 
stepped aside. 

“ Wai ? ” he asked, curtly. 

Pete’s eyes ran swiftly over the group. 
They were far too intent upon watching the 
departing boat to pay any attention to him. 

“ Wal ? ” repeated Slater, impatiently, shak- 
ing his arm loose. 

“ If ye know’d as much as I do, old feller,” 
answered Pete, in a most impressive manner, 
“ye wouldn’t be standin’ here doin’ nothin’.” 
He laid a finger warningly on his lips. “ No 
yer wouldn’t.” 


5 ° 


The Rambler Club’s 

“ What d’ye mean ? ” growled the captain, 
in a husky whisper. 

“ Jist this ! ” 

Pete drew himself up oil tiptoe, spoke 
earnestly into the lumberman's ear, and 
watched, with a peculiar grin, the look of 
amazement which gradually overspread his 
ruddy face. 

“ ’Tain’t — ’tain’t possible! ” murmured Cap- 
tain Slater, bringing out his red handkerchief 
again. “ D’ye expect me to believe anything 
like that, ye lubber? Don’t ye do no jokin’ 
with me.” 

“ Joke nothin’ ! An’ some o’ yer men knows 
it, too. Jimmy, here ” 

Pete suddenly stopped, as Sam Randall 
turned toward him, while the captain, mop- 
ping his forehead furiously, walked toward 
the group. 

“ There goes Dave ! ” cried Bob. 

The stout boy was seen clambering upon the 
deck of the vessel. The others soon joined 
him. Then the boat began to cut the water 
again, and, within a few minutes, reached 
shore. 

The three boys took their places. 


Gold Mine 


5i 


The brawny oarsman had no sentiment in 
his composition ; he only wanted to get 
through his task in the shortest possible time ; 
so his passengers soon found themselves bob- 
bing up and down, with the deep green waves 
foaming hard against the boat. 

As it swung alongside the “ Osprey,” Sam 
Randall answered the yell which came from 
his chums, grabbed hold of a line and climbed 
aboard. 

Presently all were together again. Their 
search for Wanatoma’s gold mine was to begin. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE “ OSPREY ” 

The 11 Osprey ” was a staunch, trim-looking 
schooner of graceful proportions. Captain 
Mason, still quite young, and with enthusiasm 
corresponding to his years, kept his vessel al- 
ways fresh and clean. Aft, a commodious 
cabin, with a new coat of paint, shone daz- 
zlingly white ; so did the rail and gunwale, 
which, around the stern, rose above the rest of 
the deck in an ornamental curve. 

Leaving just a passageway between the 
cabin, and running the deck’s entire length, 
were piles of smooth, finished boards bound 
in position by means of heavy ropes. Enough 
space was left in the center to reach the men’s 
quarters forward ; while on each side a nar- 
row passageway between the gunwale and 
lumber led to the bow. 

“ Only hope I don’t get stuck,” murmured 
Dave, with some apprehension, as he viewed 
the confined space. 


52 


Gold Mine 


C 


53 

Two life-boats, bottom up, were fastened 
securely on top of the boards. 

The mass of rigging impressed the boys im- 
mensely. Their eyes ran over innumerable 
blocks and tackle, shaky-looking ladders, and 
a bewildering maze of rope which stretched 
aloft to a dizzy height. 

“ What beats me,” remarked Tim, solemnly, 
“ is how they ever remember what to do with 
’em all.” 

“ Every mornin’ the sailors learn the names 
all over again, I guess,” chuckled Tim. 

“ In a ship like this ” began Tom. 

“ This isn’t a ship, Tommy,” corrected Tim ; 
“it’s a schooner. You have a whole lotto 
learn, son — listen : a schooner’s ” 

“ Huh ! Much you know about nautical 
vessels,” chirped Tommy, with a wink. 

“ ‘ Nautical vessels ’ is a good one,” mur- 
mured Tim. “ Something new ; seagoing 
marine nautical vessels, you meant. Who was 
that howled — did you speak, Mr. Sam Ran- 
dall ? ” 

“ Yes, Timothy ! Say, Bob, did you see 
Pete Colliver talking to Cap’n Slater?” 

“ Didn’t notice ’em, Sam.” 


54 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Well, I did — happened to turn quickly. 
Jiminy ! Cap had about the queerest ex- 
pression on his face I ever saw ; honest, if 
Pete wasn’t telling him something I’m much 
mistaken.” 

“ Thunder — avast there ! No more o’ that, 
my hearty ! ” growled Jack. “ How do you 
do, Cap’n ! ” 

A well-built young man approached. There 
wasn’t very much of the typical sailor about 
Captain Don Mason. He had dark hair, a 
close-cropped mustache and deep brown 
eyes. But for a bronzed complexion and 
the innumerable wrinkles which outdoor 
life had formed over his face, he might have 
been taken for a prosperous young business 
man. 

“ Glad to see you, lads,” he said, in an off- 
hand manner. “ Not much room, is there? 
Make yourselves as comfortable as you can ; 
don’t fall overboard any oftener than neces- 
sary.” He glanced critically at the sky. 
“ We’ll be off in another moment. See you 
later, boys ! ” 

“ Seems to be a nice chap,” said Bob. 

“ All sailors are,” declared Tom Clifton. 


Gold Mine 


55 

“ Especially those on nautical vessels,” 
grinned Tim. 

Presently they heard Captain Mason's com- 
mands ring out. Then came the clank and 
banging of heavy chains, as the anchor was 
slowly hauled up. 

“ Thunder ! but don't they know how to 
handle those ropes, though ! " cried Tommy, 
admiringly, a moment later. 

The sailors were pulling away with a rhyth- 
mical swing. The creaking of pulleys and 
rattle of blocks sounded above Captain Mason's 
voice. Up, up rose the sails, reef-points toss- 
ing in the wind. Now the canvas bellied 
out ; then flapped and shook. The boom 
seemed to shiver convulsively. A few strong 
pulls, and the mainsail caught the breeze, 
straining hard. Up went the jib. 

With all sails set, the “ Osprey " lurched ; 
then her bow plunged deep into a green flood 
of heaving water — they were actually off. 

Seven boys, squeezing along the narrow 
space between lumber and gunwales, tumbled 
hilariously toward the stern. But even 
pleasurable anticipations could not alto- 
gether still a pang of regret at leaving Uncle 


The Rambler Club’s 


5 6 

Stanley’s lumber camp. They waved their 
hands, shouting again and again. 

How fine the sawmills looked, sending up 
columns of smoke and steam I And there, 
over the bluff’s rugged heights, were the 
cabins. The crowd became silent — but only 
for a moment. 

“ Had some great times,” sighed Tim. 
“ Never thought we’d meet with a fate like 
this, eh ? ” 

“ What do you mean — what fate? ” grunted 
Jack. 

“ Why, that we’d get blown away.” 

“ Well, as long as we aren’t blown into 
little bits, you needn’t kick,” grinned Jack. 

A fresh breeze droned intermittently through 
the rigging, and choppy waves beating against 
the hull now and again sent up showers of 
sparkling drops. 

The familiar, forest-crowned cliffs began to 
drop lower against the sky. 

“ Want to see the cabin, boys ? ” 

Captain Mason, peering over a pile of 
boards, smiled pleasantly. 

“ You can bet we do,” laughed Jack. 

A creaking boom stood close over the cabin 


Gold Mine 


57 


roof. The steersman, at the stern, grin- 
ning cheerfully, nodded toward them. The 
schooner was rolling slightly, while the wash 
and splash of beating waves seemed to be 
steadily growing louder. Over the greenish 
expanse of water were dotted a number of 
sailing craft. 

“ Yes, we’ve encountered some pretty 
stormy weather,” said the captain, in answer 
to a question from Dave. “ Here we are, 
lads.” 

They quickly followed him down the com- 
panionway into a cozy apartment. A table, 
several chairs, a small stove and a sideboard 
were the most prominent objects ; but the 
crowd soon discovered other things which in- 
terested them greatly — nautical instruments, 
government charts, besides a cabinet contain- 
ing shells and curious fish which the captain 
had collected occupied appropriate places. 

Dave Brandon showed a familiarity with 
the names quite astonishing to Skipper Don. 

“ Oh, but Dave knows everything,” mur- 
mured Tommy. “Say” — he looked around 
with a grin — “ doesn’t it seem queer to be in 
a room that can’t keep still ? ” 


The Rambler Club’s 


58 

“ Awful odd,” laughed Jack. “ If you stay 
very quiet, lad, why ” 

“ Oh, don’t be so funny,” retorted Tom, 
grumpily. “ Bet I’m just as good a sailor as 
you are — and then a bit more. Got your field- 
glass, Bob ? Good ! Let’s go on deck and 
see the mountains moving by.” 

“ Fellows, I’d like to stay on this boat a 
solid month,” remarked Dave, with a yawn. 
“ Isn’t the motion perfectly great ? Imagine 
lying in a nice, comfortable bunk and ” 

A howl of derision cut him short. 

With hearty thanks to the captain for his 
courtesy, six boys presently dashed up the 
companionway to the deck, while Dave, his 
eyes twinkling, slowly followed. He wan- 
dered off by himself, and some time later they 
found him, stretched flat on his back between 
the life-boats, contemplating a blue and white 
sky with infinite contentment. 

“Oh, can’t you chaps let me alone?” he 
drawled, when Jack, with a yell of glee, dis- 
turbed his rest. 

But, in spite of entreaties, they cruelly 
pounced upon their victim and dragged him 
protestingly away. 


r 


Gold Mine 59 

“It would serve Dave just right if we 
wedged him fast between the lumber and this 
what-you-may-call-’em at the side, and left 
him to his fate,” pronounced Sam severely. 

“ Dreadful pirates ! ” sighed Dave. 

Bob’s field-glass was thrust into the stout 
boy’s hand, as they hustled him to the bow. 

“ If you don’t say that’s one of the bulliest 
sights you ever saw, something will happen,” 
said Bob. He waved his arm toward a range 
of the Cascade Mountains. 

The highest, a snow-capped peak, pierced a 
veil of whitish cloud, shone against a patch 
of deep blue sky, and was lost in a mass of 
vapor above. 

Dave gave a cry of admiration, as he swept 
the field-glass across their rugged slopes. 
Successively framed within that little circle 
of light were enchanting views of wild moun- 
tain scenery — dense forests, tinged yellow and 
brown, in many places interspersed with the 
rich green of hemlock and pine ; deeply 
shadowed ravines ; great piles of barren rock, 
crowned by tangled vegetation and trees 
whose branches sometimes hung far over 
dizzy depths. Then flashed into view a 


6o 


The Rambler Club’s 


foaming cascade, tumbling from one level to 
another like a silver streak. 

The field-glass was raised higher — beyond 
the point where all vegetation ceased ; there 
was nothing there but a barren, desolate 
waste, topped by perpetual snow. 

“ By Jove, fellows, but that is perfectly 
immense ! ” exclaimed Dave. “ Your cruelty 
is forgiven. Whew ! If the mountain we’re 
bound for is like those — why ” 

“ I say we’ll need an aeroplane, an’ not 
horses,” suggested Jack, with a grimace. “ I 
can see ourselves gettin’ into all sorts o’ nice 
mix-ups ; an’ perhaps we won’t come closer’n 
ten miles from that ” 

“ Jabberwock — Jabberwock, Jacky ! ” sang 
out Dick, warningly. “ Just reminds me — 
wasn’t Pete the cheekiest thing you ever 
saw? And Jimmy, too? Wonder what Cap- 
tain Slater ” 

“ Don’t you mention Pete’s name in my 
presence again ; don’t even think o’ him 
while I’m around ! ” howled Jack. “ My, 
but you do make me tired. Run off an* 
play ! ” 

“ Talk like that may lead to some one 


r 


Gold Mine 61 

walking the plank/’ grinned Dick. “ An 
ancient custom revived ! It would be a very 
unpleasant duty, Jacky, but if necessary ” 

Dick nimbly eluded the big boy’s hand, 
and retreated with undignified haste to a 
place of safety. 

At noon Captain Mason invited them to 
lunch. By the time the meal was over, a 
blanket of dark cloud had covered the blue, 
while lower, faster-moving masses scudded 
swiftly along. The “ Osprey ” rolled and 
shook, sheets of hissing foam tumbling back 
upon white-capped waves. 

The boys looked at the spread of canvas, 
dark and grim, towering aloft, slowly swing- 
ing back and forth, with reef-points lashing 
furiously, then at the straining booms and 
tightened rigging, through which the wind 
was tearing with unpleasant force. 

“ It’s developing into a regular storm,” 
said Tom. “Whew — -just gaze at that chap!” 

A young sailor was climbing up a ladder. 
They watched his figure loom against the 
sky, as he mounted to a dizzy height on the 
insecure-looking rope ladder. At times, he 
seemed to be leaning backward. 


62 


The Rambler Club’s 

“ Gee ; if he should slip ! ” murmured Dick, 
apprehensively. 

“ Oh, I guess he’s too used to the business 
for that,” assured Bob. 

But all gave a sigh of relief when, after a 
few moments’ work, the sailor descended. 

“ Hello — hello, fellows ! ” came a hail from 
the stern. It was Tim Lovell, who had 
wandered away. “ Hello ; a steamboat cornin’ 
— a real one 1 ” 

“ Silly dub,” said Jack. “ Who ever heard 
of an unreal one? Wonder if it’s life-size? 
Ask Tom if it’s a nautical boat. Get out o’ 
my way, Sam Randall.” 

The boys struggled aft as fast as the narrow 
passage would permit, receiving in their haste 
a number of unpleasant bumps and bangs. 

They found Tim standing close to the steers- 
man, gazing one moment at the foaming, 
bubbling wake, the next toward a distant 
boat over which hovered a wreath of brownish 
smoke. 

“ See ! ” Tim pointed. “ Bet it’s a whopper. 
Don’t give Jacky your glass, Bob. Oh, ginger 
— that settles it 1 ” 

Jack had rudely snatched the instrument, 


c 


Gold Mine 63 

and, planting his feet hard, steadied himself 
against the cabin roof. 

“ Looks great ! ” he cried. “ I wonder, 
maybe — I wonder if ” 

“ What? ” asked Sam. 

“ If it can be the ‘ Evergreen State ’ ; looks 
just like her.” 

“ The boat we came on 1 ” cried Dick. 
“ Wouldn’t that be jolly ? ” 

“ If she only stopped at the lumber camp 
we might be standing on her deck now,” re- 
marked Sam. 

“ Oh, I guess not ; the 1 Osprey 9 for me,” 
declared Tom Clifton. “ Anybody can travel 
on a steamboat, but everybody can’t get his 
bumps on a lumber schooner.” 

“ Besides, its next stop is Rawdon, several 
miles below Wild Oak, where we get off,” said 
Bob. 

“ You mean disembark ; use nautical terms, 
Bob,” laughed Sam. “ Hurry up with that 
glass, Jack ; the rest of us have eyes, too, and 
want to get a look.” 

But Jack didn’t hurry; whereupon Sam, 
Dick and Tommy made a united attack, which 
resulted in the glass changing hands. 


64 The Rambler Club’s 

“ I’ll make you sorry for that,” puffed 
Jack. 

“ Isn’t she cutting through the water, 
though ? ” exclaimed Sam. “ Won’t be so very 
long before she’s up with us.” 

Taking turns with the glass — Jack had 
promised to be good — the seven eagerly 
watched the steamer’s approach. Now she 
was coming clearly into view, even the pas- 
sengers on her deck being readily seen. Her 
huge black funnels were sending up columns 
of smoke. 

Sam, sweeping the craft from stem to stern, 
gazed for several moments in silence ; then : 

“ It’s the ‘ Evergreen State,’ fellows ! ” he 
exclaimed. 

“ Hooray ! ” yelled Dick. 

“ No better boat nor her runs to Portland,” 
grunted the steersman, throwing a glance 
over his shoulder. 

Slowly the distance between the boats was 
lessened. 

“ She’ll pass purty close to us, lads,” volun- 
teered the man at the wheel. 

The boys lolled on the cabin roof. The 
glass ran from hand to hand and back again. 


Gold Mine 


65 

A hearty cheer went up, and handkerchiefs 
fluttered when the “ Evergreen State '' finally 
crept abreast. 

Then Dick, who was gazing intently, gave 
a short, shrill whistle, let his hands drop for 
an instant, and whistled again, with such a 
note of astonishment that the others sat bolt 
upright and stared. 

“ Well ? ” queried Bob. 

“ Why — say ” — Dick's glass rose again — 
“ say — yes, there's no mistake about it I 
Say " 

“ Say what? " howled Tim. “ Tell us, you 
silly duffer ! " 

“ Why, Mr. Lovell — your Uncle Stanley— 
is aboard that boat I " 


CHAPTER V 


THE OTHER BOAT 

A chorus of exclamations rang out. 

“ Mr. Lovell ! Can’t be possible — you don't 
mean it?" screeched Tommy. 

“ Yes, I do — sure as you’re sixty-three inches 
high." 

“ I’m over sixty-four ! " cried Tom, hotly. 
“ How in the world could Mr. — it’s a joke; 
and a mighty poor one, Dick Travers." 

“Joke nothing I" thundered Dick, ex- 
citedly. “ See him — see him — there he is, 
waving a handkerchief ; shouting, too — saw 
his mouth open. He’s right by that little 
boat — life-boat, I mean. Get away " 

Jack had the glass again. 

A moment's breathless silence ; every eye 
was upon him. They saw his eyebrows arch 
in surprise, his lips move. 

“ Well?" cried Tim, hoarsely. 

The glass slipped into Bob’s outstretched 
hand, while : 


66 


Gold Mine 


67 

“ It’s Uncle Stanley, sure as shootin’,” fell 
from Jack Conroy’s lips. 

Steadying himself, Bob leveled the instru- 
ment. The “ Evergreen State ” flashed into 
view with delightful clearness; she seemed to 
be but a stone’s throw away. 

Eagerly Bob scanned the passengers crowd- 
ing to the rail. Yes ! That man with the 
handkerchief was certainly Mr. Lovell. He 
saw him raise a megaphone to his lips ; over 
the air came a string of words, but the steady 
splashing of water and the briskly rushing wind 
made them but a confused medley of sound. 

They strained their ears, and again came 
the voice. 

Too bad ! Not a word could be understood. 

Bob saw the megaphone lowered, then 
waved in the air. The people, cabins, rails, 
life-boats, ropes and tackle — every little ob- 
ject looked so exasperatingly near — and yet 
they could not hope to learn what Mr. Lovell 
had said. The “ Evergreen State ” was al- 
ready forging ahead. 

“ What does it mean ? ” gasped Dick, with 
a wild fear that something was destined to 
prevent them from continuing their trip. 


63 


The Rambler Club’s 

“Mean?” howled Tim, savagely. “Why, 
you can just bet your boots that Uncle Stan- 
ley has heard something — all Jacky’s doin’s — 
he never expected to go on that boat ; I know 
he didn’t ” 

“ And he’ll try to meet us,” interposed 
Sam, “ and — and ” 

They stared gloomily at each other, quite 
forgetting the presence of the steersman and 
the curious glances he turned toward them. 

“ Bring out that plank I ” cried Dick. “ I 
hate to use the 1 Osprey ’ for such a purpose, 
but let the ancient custom be revived.” 

“ Is it fur the tall un to walk ? ” The man 
grinned. “ What has he went an’ done, 
lad ? ” 

Dick turned sharply around. 

“Why, he— he ” 

“ Jabberwock ! Jabberwock ! ” roared Jack. 
fi An’ he has the cheek to blame it all on me I ” 

Silence for a moment ; then : 

“ There’s something in the wind,” came 
from Dick. 

“ We all are,” drawled Dave ; “ I’m going 
for shelter.” 

As they gloomily struggled along the deck, 


Gold Mine 


69 

the “ Osprey ” was rolling heavily ; spray flew 
over the gunwale and splashed their faces ; 
tiny pools trickled along the deck. The wind 
was steadily rising into a gale ; dark, ominous 
clouds in the distance scudded along, flinging 
ragged edges off into areas of rain. 

Bending over to escape the blasts, the 
crowd made their way to a more comfortable 
spot between the piles of lumber. 

What was the meaning of Mr. Lovell’s 
presence on the “ Evergreen State ” ? 

No one knew ; but all had certain ideas. 
The discussion grew animated. Jack de- 
fended himself with spirit ; he also tried the 
effect of vigorous thrusts with his fists — his 
usual way of ending an argument — and pres- 
ently all but Bob and Dave had moved well 
out of reach. 

“ The 1 Evergreen State ’ stops at Rawdon,” 
remarked Bob, reflectively ; “ that’s about 
five miles the other side of Wild Oak landing, 
where we get off. So, if Mr. Lovell is really 
after us, he intends to come back from the 
steamboat wharf.” 

“ Most likely,” admitted Dave ; “ but it’s no 
use to bother now.” 


7 ° 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Bet he's found out that we're goin' to a 
whole lot o' trouble for nothin'," suggested 
Jack. “ Better know it now'n later on." 

“ Old pullback I Scared? " jeered Tim, from 
a distance of ten feet. 

44 Well, don't let this great boat-ride be 
spoiled," said Dave, sniffing the air with keen 
relish. 44 Hello ! Seems to me that Sam and 
Tom are looking rather pale." 

The two lads, wearing strange, woebegone 
expressions, stood silent. Quite suddenly 
they had begun to lose all interest in the gold 
mine, in Mr. Lovell, and everything else. 
They only wanted to quietly slink away and 
be alone. 

44 Poor chap I " murmured Bob. 

Several heavy showers finally chased the 
boys to cover ; but each time it cleared away 
all were up on deck again, gathered in the 
most sheltered spot they could find. 

The mountains had dropped low on the 
horizon, a somber mass of jagged peaks 
through the heavy gray atmosphere. The 
44 Osprey " continued to stagger and roll 
amidst a flood of surging waves and 
creamy foam, her timbers seeming to jar and 


Gold Mine 


7 1 

creak as she plunged her bow deep into the 
water. 

Toward mid-afternoon, Wild Oak finally 
came into view as a mass of tiny white dashes 
against darker surroundings. The field-glass 
revealed a collection of buildings, behind 
which rose a series of rugged hills and frown- 
ing cliffs. 

“ Boys ! ” said Captain Mason, coming 
upon them suddenly, “ I can’t land you in 
this gale o’ wind ; no, sir ! Wouldn’t dare 
to risk it — I’ve been obliged to take in my 
topsails.” He cast a glance of commiseration 
toward the two with the woebegone expres- 
sions. 

“ What — what in the dickens shall we do?” 
wailed Tommy. 

“ Keep aboard as far as Rawdon, or further.” 

“ Goodness gracious ! ” groaned Sam. “ Isn’t 
it awful ?” 

“ It might be a great deal more awful if you 
tried to land,” said the captain, dryly. “ How- 
ever, don’t lose heart, bo} r s.” He shot a glance 
at the sky. “ This blow will probably soon 
simmer down.” 

But they didn’t believe him ; and, as Wild 


72 The Rambler Club’s 

Oak became stronger and stronger in the land- 
scape, stared gloomily toward it. Perhaps 
never before had a town appeared quite so at- 
tractive to them. 

44 Only to think,” murmured Bob. 

44 Don’t think,” said Jack. 

They gazed at the buildings and long wharf 
for some moments in silence. A sawmill and 
lumber-yard stood near the water’s edge, be- 
yond rose a structure with a tower, while 
straggling up over the hill were a number of 
frame houses, some partly hidden by clumps 
of trees. 

41 This field-glass makes me tired,” grumbled 
Jack. 44 Hold me back, fellows, or I may for- 
get an’ try to jump it. That wharf seems just 
a few feet away. An’ what do you think ? A 
goat just winked at me ; honest he did. Why, 
Jehoshaphat, I can almost touch the sawmill 
with my hand.” 

“ I always wanted to see Portland, anyway,” 
observed Dick. 

A howl followed his words. 

“ If necessary,” said Jack, 44 I shall take 
charge o’ this vessel myself, an’ sail it around 
in circles till the weather changes.” 


Gold Mine 


73 


But an hour later, in spite of gloomy 
predictions, it did seem as though the wind 
was lessening ; hope quickly revived. Raw- 
don, a town of considerable size, was already 
in view. 

“ I’ll lay to until you can make it.” 

The captain had hailed them. 

“ Isn’t he a daisy ! ” cried Tim, delighted 
enough to dance a jig, if space had allowed. 
“ Cheer up, Sam and Tommy ; you’ll be all 
right soon.” 

“ Get out,” mumbled Sam, ungratefully. 

Fifteen minutes later came the sound of 
Captain Mason’s commands. Eagerly the 
boys watched his crew, as they executed order 
after order with speed and precision. The 
mainsail, flapping furiously, was lowered ; the 
jib hauled down ; then, as the anchor shot out 
of sight with a splash, the “ Osprey ” was 
rolling under bare poles, with the town of 
Rawdon directly before them. 

But it was an hour later when the good- 
natured and careful skipper decided at last 
that it would be safe for them to make a start. 

“ I can’t afford to take any chances with 
future statesmen, lawyers, or doctors,” he 


74 


The Rambler Club’s 


chuckled, as he finally turned to his men and 
gave orders to get the boat ready. 

It was quickly lowered, and piled up with 
luggage. The two indisposed boys tumbled 
in — another moment, and they were off. 

On the next trip, Jack, Tim and Dick were 
taken ashore, and, at length, came the turn of 
Bob and Dave. With hearty thanks to Cap- 
tain Don Mason, they took their places in the 
rocking boat, to land, after a rough passage, at 
a long, rickety-looking wharf. 

“ Hooray ! ” cried Tim, regardless of the 
stares bestowed upon them by several natives. 
“ Hooray ! Now the fun begins I First of all, 
let’s hunt up Uncle Stanley.” 


CHAPTER VI 


CAPTAIN JERE 

Captain Jere Slater had never been more 
astonished in his life ; there was something 
in Pete Colli ver’s manner which had almost 
assured him that the stocky boy spoke the 
truth. Standing with his hands behind his 
back, the captain glared after the departing 
boat, and uttered a peculiar grunt, as the 
crowd at length waved a salute from the 
“ Osprey’s ” deck. 

Then, nodding to Mr. Lovell, he uncere- 
moniously inserted his hand under Pete Col- 
liver’s arm, and, with a gruff “ Come along, 
young feller,” fairly dragged him away. 

A huge grin overspread Pete’s face, while 
he winked expressively at Jimmy, who stood 
aghast at such familiarity on the captain’s 
part. 

“ Now, Pete,” — Slater’s tone spoke of a de- 
termination not to be trifled with — “ I want 
ye to talk, an’ talk purty fast ; or you an’ me 
75 


76 The Rambler Club’s 

will have the wust failin’ out we’s ever had 
yit.” 

44 If ye’ll stop pincliin’ me arm black an’ 
blue, I’ll tell yer everythin’ I know.” 

Pete chuckled gleefully, tapped his slouch 
hat, and executed a clumsy jig which made 
Cap Slater’s temper rise to the boiling point. 

“ Out with it, ye little lubber ; quick now I” 
With an effort, he kept his voice down. 

44 Oh, ye can’t skeer me none,” jeered Pete. 
“ Ye’d best cool off. I ain’t never looked 
inter a face what was redder.” 

This remark did not in the least appease 
Cap Slater’s impatience. But before the 
fierce scowl which tied his forehead into little 
knots had subsided, Pete was speaking. 

“ I hearn it from the big un a-talkin’,” he 
said. 44 Fust, I says ter meself, 4 It ain’t nuth- 
in’ but gab.’ Then, of a suddent, I hears ’im 
ag’in. Oh, I’m a purty smart feller, I am.” 
He poked Slater playfully in the ribs. 44 Says 
I : 4 Mebbe ’tain’t all guff, neither’ — see? So 
I inwestigates ; an’ it weren’t hard, with a 
voice like hisn — the big un, I mean. It’s a 
gold mine tbey’s after.” 

44 If this ain’t ’bout the queerest thing I ever 



,c IT’S A GOLD MINE THEY’RE AFTER” 







































\ 






































































































































































































































































































Gold Mine 


77 


hear tell of, throw me in the crick I ” said 
Captain Slater, hoarsely. 11 A parcel o' lads 
like them a-totin’ theirselves off, to git chawed 
np by warmints — if they don’t run up ag’in 
somethin’ wuss ! How d’ye know some o’ my 
men knows about this ? ” 

“ ’Cause I told ’em,” answered Pete, calmly. 
Jimmy, his eyes fixed upon the lumber- 
man’s face, stepped back a pace or two and 
prepared to run. 

But Captain Slater was controlling his 
temper splendidly. 

“ An’ what fur, ye little sardine? ” 

“ Was there anythin’ ter prewent me, old 
feller?” Pete squared his shoulders aggres- 
sively. “Would they let me in on it? No, 
sir! Would any o’ ’em give me a wrastle? 
No, sir ! ” 

“ Wal, yer even a little wusser’n I thought.” 
Captain Slater’s words were jerked out with 
angry emphasis. “ Ye kin git now ; an’ git 
fast ; an’ don’t never let me see yer ag’in ! ” 
Pete’s mouth flew open with astonishment ; 
he saw the lumberman turn and begin strid- 
ing hurriedly after Mr. Lovell, who was al- 
ready well on his way up the cliff. 


The Rambler Club’s 


78 

“ If that ain’t gratitood fur ye ! ” Pete 
clenched his fists and made a series of wild 
motions. Jimmy felt like taking it on the 
ran again. “Kin ye beat it ? What’s a-git- 
tin’ inter the old codger’s head, anyway ? 
Kin git, kin I ? So I kin ; an’ it’s after 
’irn!” 

“ Ye ain’t goin’ to hurt him none, are ye?” 
asked Jimmy, anxiously. 

But Pete, striking the back of his hat a 
violent blow, and muttering angrily to him- 
self, made no reply. 

On the top of the cliff, near Mr. Lovell’s 
cabin, Captain Slater, panting from his exer- 
tions, hoarse and perspiring, stopped a mo- 
ment to get his breath. He again mopped his 
face with the huge red handkerchief, then, 
with a grunt, strode toward the partly open 
door, almost colliding with Mr. Lovell, who 
was about to step outside. 

“ Captain Slater ! ” said the lumberman, in 
surprise. 

“ It’s me, fast enough. I most tumbled 
over myself a-gittin' here. Lovell ” 

“ Yes, captain ! ” 

“ I wants a word with ye ; an’ if ye’ve got 


> 

Gold Mine 79 

a chair as won’t break down, I’ll plump my- 
self where I kin rest a bit.” 

“ Come in, come in ! ” responded Mr. Lovell, 
with a smile ; “ I’m mighty glad to have you 
pay me a visit. As neighbors, we don’t see 
each other often enough.” 

“ I didn’t come here to spill no fine- 
soundin’ words,” growled the captain, un- 
graciously. “ What I’se got ter say is 
a-comin’ straight from the shoulder.” He 
dropped heavily on a chair in the office, and 
puffed a moment, finally exclaiming : 

“ Lovell, is them boys goin’ after a gold 
mine ? ” 

The two men looked each other squarely in 
the eye. 

“ They are,” answered Mr. Lovell, calmly ; 
“ I suspected from Colliver’s actions that he 
knew something about it, and now I know.” 

“ Ye sartingly do ! Lovell ” — Cap Slater 
leaned over ; his brawny fist banged down 
on a near-by desk — “ Lovell, them two young 
lubbers ain’t the only ones what knows it, 
either.” He paused impressively. “ Pete 
has went an’ told some o’ my men.” 

“ I’m sorry to hear that, captain ! ” 


8o 


The Rambler Club’s 


“Ye know what the talk o’ findin’ gold 
will do, hey ? It kin bust up a lumber camp, 
or anything else, quicker’n ye kin fire a lazy 
logger. An’, wusser’n that, in this case, it kin 
put them lads in danger. They’ll be follered.” 

Uncle Stanley, sorely disturbed, paced the 
room. 

“ You think so, Captain Slater ? ” he 
queried, anxiously. 

“ I sartingly do ! ” 

“ I only wish I had known this an hour 
ago. They never should have been allowed 
to go — never ! ” 

A shadow fell across the doorway ; Pete 
Colli ver, his face wearing an impudent grin, 
was staring in. 

“ There’s the little sardine what done it, 
now 1 ” said Cap Slater, wrathfully. “ If I 
was you, Lovell, I wouldn’t stan’ him an’ his 
impudence around this camp three minutes 
longer ; I’d chuck ’im out so hard he’d never 
stop rollin’.” 

“ It ain’t ye what could do it, old feller,” 
snarled Pete, with a leer, “ an’ I gives ye a 
bit o’ adwice — don’t start nothin’ ! ” 

Highly enraged, Captain Slater sprang to 


J 

Gold Mine 8i 

his feet, but Mr. Lovell's restraining hand 
stopped him. 

“ One moment, captain ! ” he said, firmly. 
“ Pete ! ” he turned toward the stocky lad. 
“ I am amazed at your conduct. Do you 
know that your reckless talk may put boys 
who have always treated you well to annoy- 
ance, and, perhaps, danger? What have you 
to say for yourself? ” 

“ I has plenty to say ; an' I ain’t skeered to 
say it, nuther,” answered Pete, defiantly fold- 
ing his arms and stepping inside. “ Nobody 
has anythin’ on me. That there crowd 
thought I wasn’t good nuff fur ’em. An’ 
if I couldn’t t’row any one o’ the lot in five 
seconds, my name ain’t Pete. None o’ ’em 
didn’t want me along, hey? An’ jist ’cause 
I work in the woods an’ don’t wear no swell 
suits with fancy fixin’s ! Ye needn’t wobble 
yer head, old codger ; it weren’t fur nothin’ 
else. An’ I says,” Pete’s face grew redder 
with excitement and anger, “ ‘ I don’t keer if 
I does spile their little game.’ They ain’t got 
n tithin’ on me.” 

“ Ye rewengeful young toad ! ” bellowed 
Captain Slater. 


82 


The Rambler Club’s 


Mr. Lovell again interposed. 

“ Leave the room, Pete,” he said, sternly, 
“ and you needn’t return to the woods at 
present — not until ” 

“ Fired, eh — fired ! ” howled Pete, misun- 
derstanding. “ Wal, did ye ever hear any- 
thin’ to beat that? An’ all ’cause Old Slater 
ain’t got the sense o’ a grasshopper. Fired, 
hey? Wal, I’m glad o’ it ! Mebbe I wasn’t 
sick of this place, anyway. Jimmy, I say, 
Jimmy — I’m t’row’d out! Wal, Pete ain’t 
askin’ ter stay, is he ? If this isn’t the 
meanest ” 

“ Colliver, leave the room instantly ! ” 
thundered Mr. Lovell. 

Shaking with anger, Pete flourished his fist 
toward Captain Slater, turned on his heel 
and stamped outside, where Jimmy, who had 
been eagerly peering in at the window, joined 
him. 

“ Is it true, Pete ? ” he asked, breathlessly. 
“ Fired ? ” 

“Yes ! An’ old Cap Slater done it ! Here, 
you Jimmy, come along with me.” And in 
the same fashion that the captain had served 
him a short time before he dragged Jimmy to 


Gold Mine 


83 

the edge of the clearing, where he tripped 
him up on the dry grass. 

Pete’s eyes were now shining with a peculiar 
light. He glanced around to see that no one 
was near, then, flopping himself beside Jimmy, 
he exclaimed in a hoarse voice : 

“ Say I What’s to prewent me an’ you from 
a-follerin’ that fine crowd, hey? ” 

“Oh ! ” cried Jimmy, somewhat bewildered. 

“ I say, what’s ter prewent our lookin’ fur 
the gold mine ourselves ? Ain’t I been t’row’d 
right down afore the capting ? Ain’t that the 
limit ? Think I’ll stan’ fur anythin’ like that, 
Jimmy?” 

Jimmy thought not. 

“ Wal, ye ain’t wrong there. Mebbe we kin 
find out where it is. They ain’t got no more 
right to it’n we have. ’Sides, can’t we have 
the bulliest time a-huntin’? Are you with 
me in this? ” 

Jimmy was now sitting bolt upright. 

“ In with ye, Pete ? ” he gasped ; “ I reckon 
I be ! Whoop ! Won’t we ” 

“ Close down ! ” Pete’s hand fell sharply on 
Jimmy’s shoulder. “ Don’t be like the big 
un. What are ye a-starin’ at ? ” 


8 4 


The Rambler Club’s 


“I ain’t starin’ at nothin’. I wasa-wonderin’ 
how in the dickens we could git to that ’ere 
gold mine fust.” 

A fierce scowl passed across Pete’s face ; his 
fists were clenched ; he rose to his feet, and, 
after an instant, picked up a switch with 
which, to Jimmy’s relief, he began to lash the 
tops of the grass. 

“ I knows a heap sight more’n anybody 
thinks I does,” he growled. “ One day, I — I 
— is any one a-comin’ ? No ! Wal, one day, 
I seen ’em all lookin’ at a drawin’ clos’ttothe 
winder — heard the big un say as how Bob 
Somers done it.” 

Jimmy grunted rather dubiously. 

“ So up I crep’,” went on Pete. “ Jist fur 
fun, ye understan’ — there ain’t nothin’ mean 
’bout me. An’ — say — if we could gita-holto’ 
that thing, eh ? ” He wagged his head know- 
ingly. 

“ Ye — ye wouldn’t swipe it ? ” cried Jimmy, 
aghast. 

“ Of course not ; but — but, if Somers was 
ketched alone some day ! See the p’int, 
Jimm}' ? He might git kind o’ scared, eh?” 

Pete felt his muscular arms. 


Gold Mine 


“ Wouldn’t s’prise me,” admitted Jimmy. 

“ An’ he’d fork it out fur a spell. If I’d 
know’d I was a-goin’, it wouldn’t have been 
me who would have gived the thing away to 
Slater’s men.” He kicked the turf spitefully. 

“ An’ them fellers ain’t got sense nuff to 
git over the mountains fast, like you an’ me,” 
remarked Jimmy, presently. “ Think we kin 
ketch up with ’em, Pete? ” 

“ Bet yer life ! Let’s hit the trail fur Wild 
Oak to onct. Why, even if we only jist gits 
there as soon as them, Jimmy, they can’t stake 
off the hull earth ; a little piece’ll be left fur 
me an’ you. A gold mine is worth bil-bil- 
billions.” 

“ Billions ! ” said Jimmy, staggered. “ Why 
— why, that’s an awful lot, ain’t it?” 

“ Ye kin bet it is. We’ll git our guns now ; 
an’ beat it afore old Cap Slater comes out ; 
’cause, if he gives me any more o’ his gab, 
I’d be fur a-huntin’ wengeance, sure. Fired, 
eh ! — fired ! Pete Colliver’ll show ’em ; by 
gum, he will ! I can’t hardly wait, Jimmy ; 
come on !” And, shaking his fist toward Mr. 
Lovell’s cabin, the stocky boy walked away, 
closely followed by his chum. 


86 


The Rambler Club’s 


It didn’t take them very long to gather to- 
gether what belongings they could readily 
carry. The two had practically lived all their 
lives in the deep forest, and, as long as they 
had a few rounds of ammunition, felt per- 
fectly safe. 

When the two, a few minutes later, hur- 
riedly left the men's cabin, fired with new and 
strange feelings, neither heard the call which 
Mr. Lovell sent through the air nor saw the 
lumberman trying to attract their attention. 

“ If them two loses theirselves off' the face 
o' the earth, it 'ud be a mighty good thing fur 
the old planet, I'm a-thinkin'," growled Cap 
Slater. “ Let 'em toddle. I'm a-goin’, Lovell." 
And, without further ceremony, the former 
steamboat captain turned and began to walk 
toward a logging road which connected the 
two camps. 

Old Cap Slater felt in no mood to enjoy the 
sights and sounds of the forest. His feet 
ploughed through the dry leaves and sent them 
flying. He had no eye for the swiftly chang- 
ing effects of sunlight and shadow, which one 
moment made the woods extend off into 
fairylike traceries of brown and gold, and the 


Gold Mine 


87 

next transformed their depths into gray, 
somber masses. His brow was still con- 
tracted, and sometimes he grunted in an 
angry fashion. 

In a little more than half an hour the cap- 
tain came in sight of a collection of log build- 
ings, and heard the sound of his own sawmills 
mingling their hum with the soughing of the 
tree tops. Leaving the road, he made for the 
heart of the forest, soon reaching a snorting 
donkey engine, the cable of which, winding 
slowly around a drum, dragged a prostrate 
tree along a skid road. 

“ Daubert ! ” he yelled, hoarsely ; “ Dau- 
bert!” And, as no answer was returned, he 
drew from his pocket a whistle, and sent a 
piercing sound over the air. 

Ted Daubert, foreman, soon located the 
lumberman, and came hurrying toward him, 
with a worried look on his bronzed, weather- 
beaten face. 

“ Daubert,” — Slater folded his arms — “ how 
many o' the men has quit work this mornin '?” 

“ Eh ? ” The foreman seemed to start. 
“ How did ye know, Cap’n? Why, ye left 
camp afore ” 


88 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ I’m askin' questions, not answerin' 'em ; 
quick now ! " 

“ Five ! " 

“ An', by gum, I s'picion I knows who some 
o' 'em is, too — big Jim Reynolds, eh ? Wal, 
he ain’t so bad ! Who else? " 

“ Tom Smull, Alf Griffin, Bart Reeder, an' 
Dan Woodle." 

“ As sartain as ye ain’t a speckled trout, 
Daubert, I know’d Smull an’ Griffin had toted 
theirselves off ; they’s the wust o’ the lot. 
Git my horse ready ; an’ tell that lazy cook o' 
ourn to stuff every scrap o’ grub he kin find 
inter the saddle-bags — d’ye hear ? What’s yer 
mouth open fur, hey ? ” 

“ Kin I ask where yer a-goin’, Cap’n ? ” 

“ Ye kin ask, but you’ll git no answer. Do 
what I tell yer. An’, Daubert ” — the captain 
raised a stubby forefinger and shook it warn- 
ingly under the foreman’s nose — “ if every- 
thing ain’t all right when I gits back ter camp 
there’ll be an explosion that’ll fire the hull 
shootin’ match clean inter the next state — un- 
derstan’ ? That’s somethin’ fur ye all to bear 
in mind.” 

Daubert knew from experience that further 


Gold Mine 


89 

questions were useless. He walked, grimly 
silent, by the captain’s side, as they made 
their way to the log buildings. The lumber- 
man’s instructions were immediately followed. 

At length Captain Slater, mounted on a 
speckled horse and resting an old-fashioned 
gun across the saddle, uttered a gruff com- 
mand and flapped his reins. 

There was no backward glance from the 
cold gray eyes as he rode away, a stern, com- 
manding figure, erect as a general on the field. 
His form scarcely seemed to sway, though the 
animal crashed through tall grass and bushes, 
on a steady gallop toward the road. 

The captain’s grizzled, weather-beaten face 
wore a look which plainly showed that, like a 
knight errant of old, he was ready and eager 
for battle ; no danger — nothing — could daunt 
him. 

A moment more, and the intervening trees 
shut from view the speckled horse and his de- 
termined rider. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE INDIAN 

Wanatoma, aged warrior and friend of the 
boys, sat before his log cabin in the midst of 
the forest wilderness. He had retreated to 
this lonely spot when increasing years robbed 
him of his power as chieftain. Wanatoma 
could not bear to see himself supplanted by a 
younger man. The braves no longer circled 
before him in wild, fantastic dances ; his voice 
in the council of the tribe carried with it but 
little weight; so, proudly, he had withdrawn 
to the solitude, where nature, kinder than 
man, makes no distinction between youth and 
age. 

The Indian’s black hair was streaked with 
gray ; his once powerful shoulders were 
slightly bent ; his eyes were dimmed, but the 
fiery spirit of the warrior still smouldered 
within him ; he quailed before neither man 
nor beast. 

For a companion he had a Great Dane, a 
90 


Gold Mine 


9 1 


dog of enormous size and strength, generally 
tractable, but which his master, if he chose, 
could transform into a savage animal almost 
as formidable as a panther. 

Wanatoma’s log cabin was situated upon a 
level stretch on the side of a high hill. Close 
by towered a wall of barren rock crowned by a 
thick growth of timber. 

It was early on the evening preceding the 
departure of the boys. The Indian, wrapped 
in a blanket, had taken a position near a 
good-sized fire, for the gusts of wind sweep- 
ing by were chill and frosty. The Great 
Dane, stretched at full length, lay a few feet 
away. 

As Wanatoma saw the dog's head suddenly 
raised and his ears twitch forward, he stopped 
his almost ceaseless rocking to peer intently 
toward the west. In another moment, the 
Dane, with a low, ominous growl, rose to his 
feet and started off ; but a soft word from 
Wanatoma brought him to a halt. 

“ Ugh 1 ” grunted the Indian. 

Presently he walked to the brow of the hill, 
keeping his eyes stolidly fixed on the line of 
woods below. Although the sky was still 


92 


The Rambler Club’s 


bright and clear, the landscape was fast deep- 
ening in the twilight. Trees, bushes and 
tangled thickets seemed rapidly merging to- 
gether in somber masses ; the rocks alone 
maintained their sharpness. 

Wanatoma’s eyes and ears did not serve 
him well, so, with a sigh, he leaned against a 
sapling and waited, while the Dane began to 
growl and show an array of dangerous-look- 
ing teeth. Only a few sharply-spoken words 
prevented him from dashing down the slope, 
and when, several minutes later, a sudden 
crackling of twigs sounded he answered with 
a deep bay that echoed weirdly from the sur- 
rounding hills. 

“ I wonder what for the white man come 
now ? ” murmured the Indian. “ Mebbe 
boys ; mebbe not — we see.” 

The crackling which had ceased began 
again ; voices, too, came over the intervening 
space ; evidently a party was forcing its way 
through the brush, and an occasional angry 
exclamation showed it to be not an altogether 
pleasant task. Then shadowy shapes came 
into view, gradually detaching themselves 
from the background, until five separate forms 


Gold Mine 


93 

stood upon a rocky ledge a short distance 
below the Indian. 

“ Hello — hello, Wanna ! ” came a salutation, 
in a rough voice. “ Is your dog loose? ” 

“ He no hurt white man. Who? ” 

There was no answer to this, but the crack- 
ling began once more ; the men, panting from 
their exertions, disappeared behind a mass of 
bushes, then reappeared, and soon four strug- 
gled up the remaining stretch to where Wana- 
toma, with folded arms, stood waiting. 

The fifth held back ; in the dim light, he 
had caught a glimpse of a huge dusky form 
from which now and then came an angry 
growl. 

“How!” exclaimed Wanatoma. He sol- 
emnly shook the hands extended toward 
him. “Cap Slater's men! What for you 
come — not to see Indian ? ” 

“ Jist to hev a few words with ye,” laughed 
one. He was a big powerful man with a deep 
voice. “ Hey, Tom Smull,” he yelled, “ don't 
be skeered. Some o' me fren's, Wanna; Alf 
Griffin, Bart Reeder an' Dan Woodle. Come 
up here, Tom Smull ! 'Member me, Injun — 
Jim Reynolds ? ” 


94 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Hey thar, make ’im tie up that critter ; 
he’s big nuff to chaw a man’s leg off,” came 
from Tom Smull. 

“ Dog no hurt.” Wanatoma looked at his 
visitors searchingly. “ You have something 
to say to Indian ? What ? ” 

“ I kin tell ye mighty quick, ” began Grif- 
fin, but a sharp thrust in the ribs stopped 
him. 

“ We jist wanted to ask ye a few questions, 
friendly like.” Jim Reynolds grinned, shot 
a glance over his shoulder at the indistinct 
form of Tom Smull, and patted Wanatoma’s 
shoulder. “ Me an’ you has alius been good 
friends, eh ? ” he asked. 

The Indian nodded gravely and walked 
forward, speaking sharply to the Great Dane. 

Tom Smull, seeing that nothing had hap- 
pened to his friends, and not enjoying the 
rough sallies flung toward him, took courage, 
coming up as the others ranged themselves 
around the fire. He was a short man of 
powerful physique, with long, sandy hair and 
bushy eyebrows, and wore a thick, stubby 
beard. The ends of a red handkerchief tucked 
around his neck flapped in the breeze. 


Gold Mine 


95 


Nature had been sparing of its favors to the 
lumberman. Perhaps this was one of the 
reasons why Tom Smull’s disposition re- 
sembled that of a surly bear. 

“ Yes, Wanna, we jist wanted to ask a few 
friendly questions/’ repeated Jim Reynolds. 
“ We’ve hearn tell that ye know somethin’ 
’bout a gold mine ; an’ that ye’ve told them 
boys what has been stayin’ over to Lovell’s 
camp whar it is.” 

“ An’ if that ain’t a fine thing to do, when 
men as ye hev know’d fur years is a-slavin’ 
in the woods ; an' ye could jist as well 
hev ” 

“ Cut it out, Tom Smull I ” roared Jim 
Reynolds. “ Now, Wanna, bein’ as you an’ 
me hev been sich good fren’s, we kinder 
thought as how ye might let us in on it. Ye 
kin count on big Jim Reynolds doin’ the 
squar’ thing by the boys — an’ you, too, Injun. 
An’ ’sides, it ain’t a bit likely them young- 
sters kin find it. So we know’d we jist had to 
ask ye, an’ out ye’d come with it, eh, Wanna ?” 

But little daylight now filtered between the 
trees ; gloomy darkness was fast settling over 
the forest ; a brisk fire threw a dancing 


The Rambler Club’s 


96 

glimmer upon Wanatoma’s picturesquely 
garbed figure and bronzed face. For an in- 
stant his beady eyes flashed strongly, then the 
stolid expression returned. He looked calmly 
at Reynolds and his rough companions, all of 
whom were glaring eagerly toward him. 

“ How does white man know ? ” he asked. 

“How?” echoed Griffin. “ Don’t make no 
difference, Injun; we know it, an’ that’s 
enough.” 

“ We’ll do the squar’ thing by ye, Wanna,” 
Reynolds again said, persuasively. “ Whar 
is the mine? ” 

Wanatoma stood silent. 

“Yes! Whar is it?” roared Tom Smull, 
paying no heed to Reynolds’ warning glances. 
“ We're bound to know, Injun. Ain’t that 
right, boys ? ” 

A loud chorus of gruff assents came from 
the lumbermen. 

“ Indian does not choose to tell,” said 
Wanatoma, quietly. 

Tom Smull and Alf Griffin’s voices rose in 
angry protest. 

“ Ye’d better tell us peaceable like,” roared 
Tom, “or it’ll be the wuss fur ye. We hain’t 


Gold Mine 


97 


walked our legs ’most off, besides failin’ over 
rocks, an’ gittin’ ketched in all sorts o’ 
thickets, to hear no sich words as them.” 

44 I should say we hain’t ! ” cried Griffin ; 
44 an’ it won’t pay to go ag’in what we says, 
nuther, Injun.” 

44 Go slow, boys,” whispered Jim Reynolds ; 
“yer spilin’ the hull business.” 

44 Git out ! Smull an’ me kin do the trick,” 
growled Griffin. He cast an anxious look at 
the Great Dane, which sat on his haunches 
close beside his master. “ Will ye answer, 
Wanna — yes or no ? ” 

44 Indian no tell.” 

44 But see here, Injun ” 

Reynolds, with an emphatic wave of his 
hand, cut short Griffin’s angry voice, and 
said : 

44 Honest, Wanna, it ain’t right to let a 
parcel o’ boys have it all, when hard-workin’ 
men, an’ fren’s o’ yourn at that, need it so 
much wusser’n they.” 

44 Ye couldn’t expect none o’ us to stan’ fur 
it, nuther,” said Bart Reeder, a tall, slender, 
freckle-faced man. 

44 We ain’t a-wantin’ to rob the boys, 


The Rambler Club’s 


98 

understand” put in Dan Woodle. 44 Did ye 
ever hear anybody say a word ag’in big Jim 
Reynolds ? He’s a squar’ man, all right ; an’ 
when he says the boys’ll have their share he 
means it, eh, Jim ? ” 

Jim nodded earnestly. 

44 Ye kin bet I do,” he said. 44 It’ll be share 
and share alike.” 

44 Prowidin’ me an’ you agree to it,” re- 
marked Griffin, in a low tone, to his chum, 
Tom Smull. 

There was an instant of silence. The 
lumbermen crowded eagerly around the aged 
warrior, whose stolid face, turned full toward 
them, shone brightly in the firelight. From 
the mysterious, somber depths of the forest 
came a low, mournful roar, as the ever-increas- 
ing breeze swayed the tree tops. 

44 Indian has spoken,” said Wanatoma, 
slowly. 44 He is a friend of the white man. 
But boys save Indian’s life, and Wanatoma 
can no forget. I give promise, and always 
does the Indian keep his promise. Is the 
white man like that, or does he change as the 
wind ? ” 

His voice was stern ; he stood out among 


Gold Mine 


99 

the rough lumbermen a dignified figure, 
unyielding to either flattery or threats. 

“ Wal, kin ye beat that? ” cried Tom Smull, 
violently. “ We didn’t come this far to hear 
all them fine words, eh, Griffin? Are you 
fellers a-goin' to staiT fur this ? ” 

“No — no ! ” yelled Griffin. 

“ If ye don't tell us to onct, ye’ll be the 
sorriest-lookin’ Injun what ever hit this part 
o’ the state!” Tom Smull shook his fist. 
“ I asks ye ag’in, will ye tell us wliar that 
gold mine is ? ” 

“ No ! ” 

Wanatoma’s stern voice vibrated with deci- 
sion. 

“Ye won’t, hey?” snarled Tom Smull. 
“ Ye'll be changin' yer mind purty quick, I'm 
a-thinkin’, Injun I ” 

“ An’ that's whar ye’re right, Tom ! ” yelled 
Griffin. “ We’ll see ! If soft chatter don't 
bring him, somethin’ else will ! ” 

Forgetting caution, in his rage and disap- 
pointment, and hoping to frighten the Indian 
by strenuous methods, the lumberman sprang 
forward. Wanatoma, calm and unflinching, 
faced him. 


100 


The Rambler Club’s 

A great dusky form suddenly rose high 
from the ground, while a deep-toned bay sent 
the astonished men falling back in a panic. 
Alf Griffin had a glimpse of a pair of savage 
eyes and an open mouth, but his wild howl 
of terror was stifled, as a crushing weight 
thudded against his chest. 

He went flying over backward, rolled into 
a mass of brush, and, next instant, the Great 
Dane, snarling savagely, was standing over 
his prostrate form. Griffin, too terrified to 
move, felt a hot breath fan his cheek, and gave 
a smothered yell for help. He was convinced 
that his last moment had come. 

The lumbermen stood motionless, none 
daring to approach the infuriated dog. Smull 
flashed a weapon. 

But Wanatoma, with upraised hand, sprang 
forward. A few sharp commands, and the 
Dane backed slowly away, uttering another 
thrilling bay. 

“ He who has no respect for Indian's white 
hair must suffer," said Wanatoma, in a voice 
that trembled. “ I want peace ; but, listen, 
Big Jim, always is the Indian ready for battle, 
and has no fear." 


Gold Mine 


101 


He stood erect, facing the silent men, defi- 
ance in every line of his bronzed, aged face. 

Still shaking with terror, Alf Griffin strug- 
gled to his feet, and, with his eyes fixed on 
the Great Dane, slunk quickly behind his 
companions. 

There was something in the old warrior’s 
manner which impressed the rough lumber- 
men with a feeling of awe. Jim Reynolds 
spoke up : 

“ Ye only got what ye desarved, Alf Griffin, 
an’ I tell you right now that any man what 
tries to do Wanatoma harm has Big Jim 
Reynolds to reckon with. Me an’ him is still 
fren’s, even if he won’t tell us ’bout the mine. 
But, Wanna,” he paused an instant, “ I’m a 
squar’ man, an’ gives ye fair warnin’ ; I s’picion 
we knows nigh ’bout whar that mine is located. 
Anyhow, it won’t be hard to trail them boys ; 
an’ I reckon if a gold strike is ever staked out 
the ones that are goin’ to do it are standin’ 
right here. So-long, Wanna.” 

The Indian, with folded arms, nodded 
gravely, and watched the men file out into 
the darkness. 

But a moment more, and the flaring light 


102 


The Rambler Club’s 


had detached them from the somber back- 
ground for the last time ; their forms suddenly 
melted into gloom, and only the sound of 
crackling twigs and stumbling feet told of the 
presence in the wilderness of other human 
beings beside the Indian. 

Wanatoma, almost motionless as a statue, 
gazed at the gloom of the hillside, at the stars 
which were beginning to show faintly above ; 
then, as the weird, shrill cry of some nocturnal 
bird jarred over the air, he sighed, and turned 
toward the fire. 

The blanket was wrapped around his form 
again. With his hand on the Great Dane’s 
head, he began to rock to and fro on his rude 
log seat, gazing into the depths of the fire, as 
though he could read in the glowing flames 
what the future held in store for the youthful 
searchers after the Rambler Club’s Gold 
Mine. 


CHAPTER VIII 


MIDNIGHT 

“ Well, how are you goin' to find Mr. 
Lovell among about five thousand peo- 
ple ? ” asked Jack Conroy. “ Say somethin', 
Timmy." 

“ Let's hunt up the steamboat landing," 
suggested Tim. “ Don’t believe many people 
got off the boat, and everybody 'ud notice a 
stranger. If Uncle Stanley intended going 
to a hotel, maybe he asked directions, an' one 
of the natives still lazying on the string-piece 
heard him." 

“ How do you know one’s lazying there?" 
asked Tom. 

“There always is, son; it's a universal 
custom. Where's the steamboat landing, 
boy ? " 

An urchin, holding a fishing pole in one 
hand, and staring open-mouthed at the crowd, 
pointed along the wharves. 

“ 'Tain’t more'n ten minutes' walk," he 
103 


104 The Rambler Club’s 

answered. “ Want me to help carry yer stuff? 
Sure ye do.” 

Hearing his words, four other boys dashed 
over, and the owner of the fishing pole was 
unceremoniously pushed aside. 

Bob laughingly settled the loud wrangle 
which began. 

“ Each one of you chaps grab something,” 
he commanded. “ Come on, fellows.” 

Armed w r ith their guns, the seven walked 
briskly to the street, a wide thoroughfare run- 
ning along the water-front, with low build- 
ings and an occasional sleepy-looking ware- 
house. 

There were but few people about. A goat, 
defiantly tossing its head, blocked the way, so 
the boys laughingly walked around it. 

Soon the street rose steeply, winding close 
to the edge of a hill, where they stopped a 
moment to look at the waves breaking against 
its base. A hundred yards further along, a 
picturesque wooden bridge spanned a small 
stream which came into view from behind a 
mass of tumble-down shacks. 

Then they reached a level stretch bordered 
on both sides by tall trees. A long pier with 


Gold Mine 


r 


105 

a glaring white sign indicating its use was soon 
after sighted. 

“ By Jove, if he isn’t actually there, Tim 1 ” 
cried Jack, with a chuckle. 

“ Who — who — Uncle Stanley ? ” exclaimed 
Tim. 

“ No ; the lazy chap I spoke about. And 
there’s another one, besides.” 

“ Then let’s interview the two who typify 
the universal custom,” laughed Dave. 

In a few moments the seven, with Jack 
Conroy in the lead, walked out on the wharf, 
and approached a small, grizzly-faced man 
who sat near the far end, dangling his feet 
over the edge. 

His eyes ran over them curiously, but he 
did not change his position. 

“ Afternoon !” remarked Jack, pleasantly. 
“ How do you do, sir? Takin’ it easy, eh ? ” 

“ Middlin’ ; can’t say no more,” answered 
the old man, with a drawl. “ I ain’t got 
nuthin’ to do, an’ hev plenty o’ time to do it 
in.” 

“ Better’n bein’ rushed about it,” grinned 
Jack. “ Say, were you here when the boat 
came in ? ” 


io6 The Rambler Club’s 

“ I reckon ! ” 

“ Did you see a gentleman with a brown 
beard and wearing spectacles get off? ” 

The old man appeared to meditate. 

“ Did I see a gentleman with a brown 
beard, an’ wearin’ specs git off? ” he repeated, 
slowly. 

“ How about it?” asked Tim, eagerly. 
“ Did you ? ” 

“ No ; I calc’late as how I didn’t. Why ? ” 

“ Oh, ginger ! We just wanted to know.” 

“ That’s what most people asks questions 
fur ; an’ alius they wants sumphin fur nothin’. 
Whar d’ye come from, hey?” 

“ From the place we last stopped,” laughed 
Jack. He fished out a dime from his pocket. 
“ Would you mind accepting this?” 

“ Never declined nothin’ in me life ; an’ I 
ain’t young nuff ter begin now,” grumbled the 
old chap, extending his hand. “ Thank’ee. 
Ask Luke Jarrett over thar. Everybody looks 
alike to me ten feet away.” 

Luke Jarrett admitted having watched a 
brown-bearded man wearing glasses until he 
disappeared down the road. “ An’ he was 
a-walkin’ like all creation,” he confided. 


r 

Gold Mine 107 

“ In the direction o' Wild Oak ? ” asked 
Jack, eagerly. 

“ Ye hit it right. No, I didn’t hear ’im 
ask no questions o’ nobody ; he jest lit out.” 

“ Which means,” said Bob, “ that we’ll 
have to light out, too. How far is it — about 
five miles, eh ? ” 

Dave groaned, while Jack protested vigor- 
ously. 

“ Five miles ! Great Scott ! An’ with all 
our stuff I Let’s find a rig.” 

“ Get out,” sniffed Dick. “ We can hire 
Luke and the biggest of these boys ; how about 
it, Bob?” 

Bob’s eyes lighted up quizzically. 

“ If we can’t stand five miles on a nice, 
smooth road, fellows — why ” 

“ It would look mighty bad for us ever 
reaching that Jabberwock,” said Dave, very 
softly. He smiled. “ Anyway, we’ve proved 
that universal customs are sometimes good 
things.” 

A bargain was quickly made with Luke and 
two of the boys ; then, flinging a good-bye to 
the old chap on the string-piece, the crowd 
started off. 


io8 The Rambler Club’s 

It was just the kind of weather for walking. 
The cool, brisk air sent the blood tingling 
through their veins. The road fell steadily 
behind, and within a quarter of an hour 
houses were passed only at intervals. Upon 
looking back from a height, they saw Rawdon 
spread out, a confused mass of grayish build- 
ings climbing up and down gentle slopes, 
while beyond lay farmhouses and rugged hills. 
Range after range extended off, until the 
gloomy gray sky seemed to creep down and 
shut them from view. 

The road soon left the Columbia River, 
keeping so far inland that it disappeared 
entirely. 

“ Wouldn’t it be fine if we should meet 
Uncle Stanley on the way?” remarked Tim; 
“eh, Bob?” 

“ It might not be so fine for the Jabber- 
wock,” answered Bob, with a grim smile. 
“ Unless,” he added, a sudden thought hav- 
ing come to him, “ your uncle’s changed his 
mind, Tim, and intends going with us.” 

“Ginger; I wonder if that can be !” mur- 
mured Tim. “ Say, Bobby — I wonder ! ” 

One by one the chipped and dingy mile- 


c 


Gold Mine 109 

stones were passed, and by late afternoon 
Wild Oak came into view. All heaved a 
great sigh of relief. 

“ I couldn’t have stood it for another 
twenty-four hours,” grinned Dick. “ Who’d 
want to live in a hilly place like this, eh, 
Sam ? ” 

The way led down the side of a steep slope, 
and rose again, looming up grimly in shadow, 
on the opposite side. Between great oak trees 
which lined the road glimpses of houses and 
whitewashed fences were seen ; and, presently, 
Tom exclaimed : 

“ Hello, there’s that building with a tower ; 
what is it, Luke ? ” 

“ Wild Oak Hotel,” answered Jarrett. 

“ Is there any other? ” 

“ Nope‘ ! ” 

“ Let’s steer for it,” advised Bob ; “ most 
likely Mr. Lovell went straight there.” 

“ ’Twon’t do ye a bit o’ good,” said Luke ; 
“ it ain’t open now ; only ketches wisitors 
as is daffy enough to come hyar durin’ the 
summer.” 

“ Oh I ” cried Tim, disappointedly. 

“ The feller as owns it is Phil Irwin, a 


1 10 


The Rambler Club’s 


ranchman ; has a cattle ranch over to Marlin 
Springs, seven mile from ’ere ; owns lots o’ 
bosses, too. They calls ’im * Cattle King 
Irwin.’ ” 

“ Good ! ” cried Bob, in a tone which in- 
stantly caused the other boys to stare toward 
him. 

‘‘Good?” murmured Dick. “Why? I 
can’t quite catch the point.” 

“Oh, it isn’t a sticker,” laughed Bob. “ A 
ranchman, ranch-house and horses! Catch 
on?” 

“The idea has lodged within,” exclaimed 
Tim, tapping his forehead. “Bully for you, 
Bob. Only hope the cattle king’ll spare us 
about nine good mustangs.” 

Another fifteen minutes took them down 
by the shore, along the main street of Wild 
Oak. Several roads branched off from this, 
all lined with small houses and stores. 

The crowd, with their retinue of baggage- 
carriers, immediately created an enormous 
sensation. Children, a scattering of men, 
besides numerous feminine members of the 
population, viewed them with absorbing in- 
terest. 


Gold Mine 


1 1 1 


c 


Jack Conroy, cool as usual and grinning 
broadly, began to ask questions right and left. 
Had any one seen a brown-bearded gentleman 
wearing spectacles ? 

Several had. 

14 He was walkin’ up an* down this here 
street fur a spell,” volunteered a tall lad. 

44 No ; didn’t see where he got to. Hev ye 
tried the mill ? ” 

44 I’ll go over and find out,” said Tim. 

44 The rest of us had better divide up into 
parties, and do a bit of scouting,” suggested 
Bob. 

This idea was applauded. 

44 Go ahead, boys,” urged Dave, laughingly. 
He sprawled down on a bit of turf. 44 If Mr. 
Lovell comes this way I won’t let him get by.” 

“Goodness, what tremendous energy!” 
snickered Jack. 

Luke Jarrett and the two boys agreed to 
lend their assistance, and within a few min- 
utes the stout boy was left alone to guard 
their stuff and keep a lookout for the lumber- 
man. 

He had not been settled in a comfortable 
position very long before he saw Sam Randall 


1 12 


The Rambler Club’s 


and Dick Travers pushing toward him on a 
loping trot. 

“ I say, Dave,” almost yelled the latter, in 
a state of great excitement, “ Mr. Lovell hired 
a rig and went back to Rawdon ; some man 
saw him. Gee I Wish those other chaps 
would come up. Just think of having to 
hoof it all the way back there to-night.” 

“ That’s all I’m going to do — think about 
it,” said Dave, decidedly. 

“ But— but ” 

“ No force could possibly budge me.” 

The others finally came up, and listened 
gloomily. 

“ There isn’t a particle o’ use in the whole 
crowd going,” argued Tim ; “ let’s draw lots.” 

“ All right,” agreed Bob. 

A few minutes later six were howling with 
merriment, while Tommy Clifton, highly in- 
dignant, held a paper which had written upon 
it the word “ stung.” 

“Tommy’s scared,” grinned Jack. 

“ Scared nothing ! ” snapped Tom, hotly. 
“ I’ll show you if I’m scared.” 

Bob leaned over and whispered in the stout 
boy’s ear : 


Gold Mine 


C 


n 3 

“ I’ll go with him, Dave. Mind ? Not a 
bit of it.” 

Tommy was scowling suspiciously. 

“ Quit your kidding, Bob,” he said. “ Come 
on, Luke, and you chaps. Humph — scared ! 
Jacky might be, but I’m not ; no siree ! 
What ! you’re coming along ? Gee 1 ” A 
smile of keen satisfaction lighted his eyes, but 
Tommy’s voice was still grumbling as he 
added : “ Huh, but you fellows do sometimes 
make me tired.” 

After arranging where to meet, Bob Somers 
and Clifton began trudging off, with the 
others straggling in the rear. The crowd 
watched them until their figures had disap- 
peared around a curve. 

Sam Randall declared that there was noth- 
ing very pleasant in the prospect of loafing 
about Wild Oak for goodness knows how 
many hours, and all but Dave agreed. 

Nothing could induce the latter to budge 
from a comfortable position ; he treated 
threats, scorn and persuasion with equal in- 
difference, smiling broadly all the time. And 
so they lingered until dusk began to settle 
down ; then the five picked up their luggage, 


ii 4 


The Rambler Club’s 


and, with many sighs and groans under its 
weight, sauntered down in the direction of the 
lumber-yard and sawmill. 

It was a dingy, dark locality by the board 
fence, with piles of lumber towering high 
above. Pools had collected in the street ; 
heaps of refuse lay about. So the crowd hur- 
ried along at a good clip. They walked out 
on the sawmill wharf to look at the Colum- 
bia, still tossing angrily, while dark, stormy 
clouds scudded before the wind. 

“ Seems that the universal custom is not in 
force here,” remarked Dave, dryly. 

“ Oh, it’s only because it’s too near a place 
where people have to work,” said Tim. “ Let’s 
skip.” 

The lamplighter was leaving a trail of 
feeble, glimmering spots to mark his progress ; 
lights began to sparkle from cottage windows ; 
starlike points, seemingly poised in space, 
suddenly started up on the hills. It was all 
very dark and dreary ; and voices which they 
occasionally heard had a strange, uncanny 
sound. 

Jack Conroy began to have uncomfortable 
thoughts of moonless nights in the mountain 


r 

Gold Mine 115 

wilderness, with, perhaps, wild animals 
prowling about, or high precipices, unseen in 
the blackness, close to their camp. 

“ If finding that Jabberwock is as hard as 
finding supper in Wild Oak, we’re going to 
have a tough time,” grumbled Dick, softly. 

“ Don’t people have to eat out here, I wonder ? ” 

“ An’ some o’ these natives may hear a few 
wild croaks if we don’t get it mighty soon,” 
laughed Tim. “ Hadn’t we better yell for 
help?” 

But the difficulty was at length solved by a 
passer-by, who directed them to a very hilly 
street where they found the Wild Oak Restau- 
rant, a little frame building surrounded by a 
group of stately trees. 

With sighs of thankfulness, they entered ; 
each threw his load in a corner, while the as- 
tonished and agitated proprietor, who would 
have bravely faced a band of outlaws, stood 
nervously wondering whether their guns were 
loaded and might be accidentally discharged. 

Of course they ordered the best in the house, 
and managed to spend a wonderful amount of 
time over each dish that was set before them. 

It was the only known occasion when a piece 


n6 


The Rambler Club’s 


of pie remained on Dave Brandon’s plate for 
more than one minute and thirty seconds. 

An anxious expression settled over the pro- 
prietor’s face, and finally he approached, smil- 
ing discreetly. 

“ I — er — er — I generally close up ’bout nine 
o’clock,” he began, hesitatingly, “ an’ ” 

“ There isn’t much chance o’ your doin’ it 
to-night, old chap,” grinned Jack Conroy, 
calmly. 

“ Eh ? ” said the man, looking bewildered. 

The big boy quickly explained, and then 
Dave, with eyes blinking, spoke up : 

“ If you have any extra mattresses and a lot 
of straw you might be able to put us up for 
the night.” 

“ Ha, ha ! Nice way o’ puttin’ it ! Ye kin 
hev a room, sure,” answered the man, promptly, 
“ an’ some o’ them blankets you’ve toted with 
yer ought to take the hardness out o’ the floor. 
I’ll keep open as late as ye like ; but day prices 
don’t go at night — understan’ ? I can’t afford 
to lose nothing.” 

” You won’t,” assured Jack. 

A bargain was finally struck, and the boys, 
with minds at ease, settled back contentedly. 


Gold Mine 


P 


117 

The hours slipped by with provoking slow- 
ness ; conversation lagged ; Dave fell asleep, 
while the others yawned and stretched. 

Finally a dingy old clock on the dingiest of 
old mantelpieces rang out in quavering strokes 
the hour of eleven. 

“ Can't stand this any more, fellows," ex- 
claimed Dick, drowsily. “ Who wants to take 
a spin — you, Jack ? Well, come ahead. I say, 
Dave — Dave ! ” 

“ Lemme be," mumbled the stout boy. 
And Dick, who had leaned over to tickle him 
with a straw, found his wrists seized in a vise- 
like grip. “ Don’t bother," laughed Dave ; 
“ I’m coming." 

The proprietor opened the door to let them 
out. 

A shaft of light fell across the street, and 
lighted up in ghostlike patches the old rugged 
oak whose branches almost swept against the 
corner of the house. In the silence of the 
night, their footsteps clattered noisily, as 
they began to trudge down a steep slope. 

From one street into . another the boys 
turned, each seeming more dismal than the 
last. Here and there oil lamps threw weird- 


The Rambler Club’s 


1 1 8 

shaped lights over gray stuccoed walls, and 
fantastic shadows trailed across, to lose all 
outlines in shapeless patches of dark. 

At the base of a hill, a lonely lamp shot its 
rays upon a wooden bridge, and disclosed high 
banks upon its borders, while a fresh rippling 
gurgle told of a stream rushing swiftly over a 
rocky bed. The strong odor of weeds and 
moisture-laden air came up from the dark 
depths into which they peered. 

“ Ugh I ” shivered Jack. “ Spookish, eh ? 
Worse’ll bein’ right out in the woods.” 

“ It’s something to stir the imagination, 
fellows,” yawned Dave, sleepily. 

“ And send cold chills down one’s spine, 
too,” said Sam. “ Listen — was that anything? 
Bob’s going to signal, you know.” 

“ Nothin’ but a dog barkin’,” answered Jack, 
presently. 

“ And Bob’s voice never sounded anything 
like that,” chuckled Dick. “ Feels like the 
edge of the world here ; Hobgoblinville. Are 
those buildings or trees back there ? ” 

“ Suit yourself,” said Dave. He drew from 
his pocket a huge note-book, and, leaning 
against the rail, began to write. 


Gold Mine 


119 p 


“ Another inspiration,” chirped Sam. 

u Those illusive words ! ” sighed the stout 
boy. “ I can feel the whole thing — but 
how to grasp it ! ” He hastily dashed off 
several lines. “ Anyway, the idea is there. 
Going ? ” 

“ Smell’s already pushed me a yard,” re- 
sponded Jack. 

They climbed another hill, walking slowly 
and sleepily, and, as time wore on, wandered 
through narrow lanes where the trees met 
overhead, trod the wooden sidewalks of broad, 
open streets, or stopped on some eminence to 
gaze off into the expanse of darkness. 

“ Midnight ! ” 

Dave spoke the word as he stood, watch in 
hand, beneath a lamp which flickered in the 
breeze and sent forth through a broken pane 
a strong odor of coal-oil. 

“ If those chaps would only come ! ” sighed 
Sam. 

Another half hour passed, then : 

“ Hello — there’s the signal I ” cried Dick 
Travers, excitedly. 

Tired, sleepy feelings were as instantly 
swept away as though they had been treated 


120 


The Rambler Club’s 


to a cold shower-bath. All came to a halt, 
listening eagerly. 

Another moment, and a peculiar call suggest- 
ing the hoot of an owl was borne to their ears. 

“ Hooray,” burst out Tim, “ it's Bob and 
Tommy sure ! ” 

Regardless of the sensation which might be 
caused in sleepy Wild Oak, the five responded 
with tremendous effect. 

An answer almost instantly followed the 
echoes of their lusty yells, and joyously the 
crowd walked toward Cattle King Irwin’s 
hotel, the rendezvous agreed upon. 

It was not long before a couple of shadowy 
figures appeared in view, passing before the 
dim light thrown by a far-off lamp. 

With a whoop, Tim darted forward, the 
others following close at his heels. 

They arrived panting, to find the envoys 
seated calmly on a door-step, with a head gaz- 
ing wonderingly down upon them from a 
second story window. 

“ Well, well,” cried Tim, breathlessly, “ did 
you see Uncle Stanley?” 

“We did not,” answered Tom, wearily, 
“ and for a very good reason, too ; eh, Bob ? ” 


Gold Mine 


121 


r 


■< Why— why ” 

The chorus of questions was stilled by Bob 
Somers. 

“ It’s this way,’ 7 he said ; “ one of the 
steamers bound east stopped at Rawdon this 
afternoon. We hunted up the agent, and 
he was sure, from our description, that Mr. 
Lovell got aboard. So the whole 77 

“Thing is still a mystery/ 7 finished Tom. 

A gruff voice floated down from above. 

“ Go on now — get away from here with all 
that gab, or ’t won’t be no mystery what hap- 
pens next. 77 

A head thrust out of a window nodded 
vigorously. 

“ Oh ! ” cried Bob, looking up, somewhat 
startled. 

“ Where’d ye come from? 7 ’ 

“ That’s what they all ask. Beg your 
pardon, sir ! 77 

“ Beg your pardon, sir, also 1 77 added Jack, 
with a grin. 

Several other similarly polite remarks did 
not appease the wrath of the man above, so 
they started off, quite oblivious to the words 
hurled after them. 


122 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Grouchy old gent I ” murmured Jack. 

“ Never had such a walk before,” Bob was 
saying. “ Black as pitch ; couldn’t even see 
the road. Tired? Well, just a bit. Found 
a place for us to sleep, eh? That’s great.” 

Tim’s thoughts were running in another 
channel. 

“ See here, Bob,” he asked, “ what — what 
are we goin’ to do about this thing? ” 

“ Do ! ” Bob squared his broad shoulders 
aggressively. “ Why, there’s only one thing 

for us to do, Tim; and that is ” He 

waved his arm toward the north. 

And the others understood, and cheered. 


r 


CHAPTER IX 

THE BRONCHOS 

It was late in the afternoon of the next 
day when the boys, following a well-defined 
cattle trail which led over range after range 
of hills and through broad valleys, came in 
eight of a collection of white buildings — the 
ranch-house and barns of Cattle King Irwin. 

Eagerly they pushed ahead, watching with 
a satisfaction born of fatigue and hunger the 
outlines of the grim old structure slowly ex- 
panding before their eyes. It was a pictur- 
esque, time-stained building, L-shaped, two- 
storied, with a little tower rising from the 
center, rows of windows on all sides, and 
surrounded by a broad veranda. 

The ranch-house wore a sleepy, deserted 
look, although a thin column of brownish 
smoke issuing from a chimney at the rear 
told of life within. 

“ Only hope he's home,” murmured Jack, 
wearily. “ Don’t believe my back’ll ever feel 
right again.” 


123 


Y 


124 The Rambler Club’s 

“ It's been a mighty hard tug with all this 
stuff,” admitted Bob, “ but if everything goes 
right, Jack, we’ll soon have a few sturdy 
broncs to take us the rest of the way. Hello ! 
There’s some one coming now.” 

The big square door of the ranch-house had 
suddenly swung open, and an enormous man 
stepped onto the piazza. He stood gazing 
earnestly in their direction, as if not quite 
certain of his eyes, then walked slowly down 
the steps to meet them. 

“ Gracious, isn’t he a whopper? ” whispered 
Dick. 

“ Talk about your giants,” murmured Tom : 
“ he’s one.” 

But the big man’s full-bearded face was 
lighted up with such a pleasant expression 
that any feeling of constraint which his size 
might have inspired was instantly dispelled. 

“ How do you do, sir ? ” Jack greeted him 
politely. “ You are Mr. Cattle King Irwin, I 
suppose? ” 

‘‘ * Bless me,” exclaimed the ranchman, in a 
deep, rumbling voice, “ where in the world 
did you boys come from ? ” 

Dick chuckled at the familiar question, 


Gold Mine 


1*5 

while the others repressed a smile with 
difficulty. 

“ Oh, we heard ’bout your havin’ horses for 
sale, an’ thought we’d drop over the hills an’ 
take a look at a few.” 

“ Horses ! You’re not dealers, are you ? ” 
Mr. Irwin’s eyes twinkled. “ Bless me, but 
this is the biggest surprise I’ve had for some 
time. Easy to see the lot of you have been 
living pretty much out in the open, too ; 
brown as berries. Well, leave your stuff on 
the veranda and come in.” 

They followed his towering form into a 
great square apartment. The ceiling was 
raftered, and the walls paneled in oak. Near 
one corner stood a small table, while out in 
the room was another of greater length, with 
long benches on either side. 

The big ranchman waved his hand. 

“ Plenty of chairs ; a settee by the window — 
make yourselves at home, and tell me what 
all this means. How does it happen that 
youngsters like you are tramping around this 
lonely region ? ” 

“ I’ll tell you,” began Jack, easily ; “ my 
young friends here are out lookin’ for a bit o’ 


126 


The Rambler Club’s 


adventure, an’ of course need some one to see 
after ’em ; so I consented to come along 
an’ ” 

“ Huh ! ” said Tom, in a voice so loud that 
general attention was attracted, whereupon 
Tommy, somewhat confused, jerked his finger 
toward Bob Somers. “ He’s the one, sir,” he 
said. “ Go ahead, Bob.” 

Jack grinned indulgently, and flopped 
down beside Dave, who was already comfort- 
ably installed on the settee. 

The ranchman listened intently while Bob 
explained their errand. Sitting back in a 
chair which seemed to have been made ex- 
pressly for him, his eyes ran over the group, 
an occasional “ h’m ” falling from his lips. 

“ Ever had any experience out in the wil- 
derness ? ” he queried, presently. 

“ Well, I should rather say so,” cried Dick. 
ft Tell Mr. Irwin about the club, Bob, and 
gome of our adventures.” 

With his hands clasped across his knees, the 
cattleman again assumed an easy attitude. 
His smile grew broader, and, as Bob finished, 
he broke into a deep, rumbling laugh. 

“ So this is the Rambler Club,” he said. 


Gold Mine 


127 


“ Well, well ! I hope your feelings won’t be 
hurt, boys, when I say that I ; ve never heard 
of you.” 

“ Never even heard o’ Jack Conroy ? ” 
snickered Tim — “ that big chap sittin’ over 
there? The gentleman never heard o’ you, 
Jacky ; did you hear? ” 

“ Nobody outside the range of his voice ever 
did,” laughed Tom. 

“ Perhaps the high hills in this part of the 
country stopped our fame from getting past,” 
said Bob, with a smile. “ How about those 
horses, Mr. Irwin ? ” 

The ranchman stroked his beard thought- 
fully, then his glance swept them again. 

“ The only horses I have for sale at present,” 
he said, slowly, “ are skittish animals not very 
well broken, and if anything happened to you 
boys I should feel myself responsible.” 

“ Just the kind of horses we want,” cried 
Bob, enthusiastically; “ eh, fellows? You 
needn’t have a bit of fear on our account, Mr. 
Irwin ; the whole crowd are jolly good riders. 
We’ll prove it, too, if you like.” 

“ You bet we will,” came from Tim. 

“ And then another question,” said Mr. 


128 The Rambler Club’s 


Irwin, easing his huge form into a more com- 
fortable position and smiling genially ; “just 
let us suppose, for instance, that I have — er — 
er — well, a suspicious nature : then I might 
be, justified in thinking, perhaps, that your 
parents wouldn’t approve — er — er ” — his deep 
laugh boomed forth again — “ have you any- 
thing to show me ? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” laughed Dick, “ lots of letters.” 

“ And that stout chap over there,” put in 
Sam, “ is our historian, poet and artist. Speak 
for yourself, Dave. He’s writing a great vol- 
ume about our travels — subscriptions taken 
now.” 

“ You can put my name down if you’ll 
agree to send the book out here by mail,” 
laughed the ranchman. “ Letters from your 
father, eh? Your name is Bob, I believe?” 
He glanced over them quickly. “ Oh, it’s all 
right ; I thought it would be. Well, come 
out to the corral, boys.” 

From a rear door of the ranch-house he led 
the way toward a long line of barns, and, 
passing these, they saw ahead a rambling col- 
lection of sheds and solidly-built corrals. 

To their left, an undulating farm meadow 


Gold Mine 


129 


was covered with thousands of towering yel- 
low haystacks extending off until they formed 
an apparently solid line against the gray 
hills beyond. 

“ An important part of the cattleman’s 
business,” explained Mr. Irwin, noticing the 
boys’ interest. “ This is for the winter feed- 
ing.” 

“ Don’t you ever graze your herds on gov- 
ernment land?” asked Tim. 

“ Formerly I did, by paying so much per 
head ; but now I prefer to have the stock 
behind my own wire fences. It required the 
services of many men to keep them within 
the proper limits. The sheepmen, of course, 
have the advantage there, for even large 
flocks are easy to manage.” 

“ And the sheep-raisers and cattlemen used 
to have fierce scraps for the range, didn’t 
they ? ” said Sam Randall. 

“ Yes, there was much trouble ; it some- 
times breaks out, even now,” answered Mr. 
Irwin. “ But the building of railroads, the 
coming of homesteaders and farmers, have 
blazed a trail of civilization which has forced 
the stockmen further and further back in the 


The Rambler Club’s 


1 3 ° 

interior. The open range is fast becoming 
ancient history.” 

“ And towns are springing up, too,” put in 
Dave. 

“ Yes, it was bound to come.” The cattle 
king sighed, as if recalling old times, adding : 
“ You can see that under these changed con- 
ditions land is far too valuable to be used 
merely as a feeding ground for herds of rov- 
ing cattle. But here we are, boys.” 

Tie opened an iron gate leading into one of 
the smaller corrals, and they entered. 

The boys had before them a collection of as 
wicked-looking little bronchos as they had 
ever seen. At the intrusion, there immedi- 
ately followed a tremendous commotion among 
the animals. Those close to the gate galloped 
away, swung around, pawed the ground, 
danced and capered about. Tails were lash- 
ing ; neighs and snorts filled the air ; a dull 
thud of pounding hoofs sounded. 

“ Gee !” murmured Jack Conroy. 

“ A lively lot,” said the ranchman. “ Some 
of the boys will be along pretty soon ; they’ll 
lasso ’em for you.” He turned toward the 
entrance. “ Hello, Buckley 1 ” he yelled. 


Gold Mine 


131 

In a few moments, a tall, slim man came 
hurrying into the corral, to stare in open- 
mouthed astonishment at the seven. 

“ When the boys get in, send them over,” 
said the cattle king, tersely. “ That’s al^ 
Buckley. See anything you like, Ramblers? 
— they’re all good stock. Don’t venture out too 
far — danger of getting howled over, you know.” 

The ponies were all in motion again, now 
huddled together in a compact mass, then scat- 
tering over the turf, their swiftly-moving bodies 
intermingling, to form currents of changing 
color. As the din of hoofs grew louder, the 
yellow streamers of dust rose in thicker clouds. 

Jack Conroy watched the interesting spec- 
tacle without bubbling over ; his enthusiasm 
had never been at a lower ebb ; indeed, he 
began to heartily wish they had never heard 
of Wanatoma or his gold mine. 

Before very long several cowboys cantered 
up to the gate, entering in single file. They 
were garbed in the usual fashion — colored 
shirts, leather chaps, and broad-brimmed 
sombreros. From the pommels of their sad- 
dles flapped rawhide lariats. 

A touch of their quirts, or whips, sent their 


132 


The Rambler Club’s 


ponies bounding past ; but, in an instant, they 
pulled sharply up, huge grins overspreading 
their deeply-bronzed faces. 

“ Wal, wal, strangers ! ” exclaimed one. 
“ If this hyar ain’t the biggest collection o’ 
tenderfeet I’ve ever seen to onct ! ” 

“ Tenderfeet ! ” echoed Tom, indignantly. 

“ We may look like ’em, pard,” laughed 
Bob, “ but it ends there.” 

“ Let’s see if you can toss those rawhides ; 
we’re going to thin out the corral,” grinned 
Dick. “ Broncs come cheaper by the dozen, 
don’t they, Mr. Irwin ? ” 

The cattleman laughed. 

“ Get busy, boys,” he said. “ We have a 
big deal on hand ; the Rambler Club of Wis- 
consin is to be supplied with horses.” 

A tremendous guffaw came from the riders. 
They listened to the ranchman’s instructions, 
unslung their lariats, and then rode further 
into the corral. 

As the rawhide coils whipped and flashed 
through the air, the snorting bronchos fell back 
with lightning speed, crowding each other hard 
against the rough walls. Then, plunging and 
kicking, they spread out into a half-circle. 


Gold Mine 


i33 

Zip I The noose settled down — one was 
caught ; then another. 

“ Look out, fellows ! ” cried Jack, in sudden 
alarm. 

The whole herd was stampeding in their 
direction. 

Yelling like Indians, two of the cowboys 
galloped in front of the line of rapidly ad- 
vancing horses, checked the mad rush, and 
when the seven, who had fallen back in 
undignified haste to the gate, looked around 
again the men were leading their unwilling 
captives toward them. 

Fifteen minutes later, seven bronchos were 
tied to posts outside the corral. 

Looking out for flying heels, the boys went 
eagerly from one to another studying their 
good points with critical eyes — that is, all but 
Conroy did. Jack had been hoping to find 
one broncho with nice, gentle, winning ways; 
but they all looked discouragingly alike, and 
he felt an almost irresistible desire to fall upon 
Cousin Tim, who, in an unnecessarily loud 
voice, was calling attention to their fiery dis- 
positions. 

The cowboys cantered back to the barns. 


134 


The Rambler Club’s 


They entered fully into the spirit of the oc- 
casion, glad to see new faces and have a crowd 
of boys to liven up the lonely ranch even for 
a short time. 

In a few moments they returned on foot, 
loaded down with saddles and bridles. Then 
came another fight with the stubborn little 
animals which seemed to bring out all the 
wickedness in their make-ups. 

Jack Conroy, leaning against the corral 
wall, felt his knees begin to tremble strangely. 
His eyes ran swiftly over the ponies, some 
curiously spotted, others evenly colored, and 
each vicious plunge they made sent an un- 
pleasant thrill to his heart. 

It wouldn’t have mattered so much, he 
reflected grimly, if they were alone on the 
open prairie; but with all these grinning cow- 
boys to see ! 

Jack gulped hard, trying to steady his 
unruly nerves ; a fierce scowl puckered his 
forehead, for a curious grin had settled upon 
Tim Lovell’s face, and Conroy felt pretty sure 
that he knew the reason why. 

“ Ready, boys ? ” the ranchman’s deep voice 
boomed out. 


Gold Mine 


‘35 


Without an instant’s hesitation, Bob Somers 
swung himself into the saddle. There was a 
loud snort, a flash of flying hoofs ; a rearing 
pony pawed the air; but its rider coolly met 
every move. Down came his quirt on the 
pony’s flank. 

The animal gave a tremendous bound, and 
broke into a heart-breaking gallop. A mur- 
mur of admiration came from the cowboys as 
Bob was whirled off in the direction of the 
haystacks. 

“ Kin ride ter beat all creation,” commented 
one. 

“ Bravo ! ” cried Mr. Irwin. 

The rider was soon hidden behind the 
yellow piles, a moment later reappearing far 
down the valley. They watched him turn 
and canter lazily back, and gave him a hearty 
cheer when he slipped from the saddle. 

One by one the boys proved their horse- 
manship, and Conroy’s turn came last. Jack 
felt that all eyes were upon him. Making a 
desperate effort to appear as if he had never 
enjoyed anything more in his life, he ap- 
proached a tawny sorrel whose ears were held 
threateningly back. 


136 The Rambler Club’s 

A pair of wicked-looking eyes glared into 
his own. Jack devoutly wished himself a 
thousand miles away. 

“ If this isn’t the worst o’ the bunch, I’m a 
scarecrow,” he groaned inwardly. “ Why in 
thunder did I let those chaps have first 
choice ? ” He vaguely wondered if there 
were any nice soft spots around for him to fall 
upon. Then : 

“ Whoa, boy, whoa ! ” he whispered softly. 

The broncho, his sides quivering ominously, 
stood still. 

“ Whoa, boy, whoa ! ” 

Desperately, Jack put his foot in the stirrup, 
and, with a do-or-die look, vaulted quickly on 
the animal’s back. 

Then the hearts of the onlookers were 
thrilled by a startling exhibition. 

With a maddened snort, the sorrel bounded 
high in the air. Down came its four legs 
in a bunch, sharp hoofs sending a shower 
of flying turf. Jack found himself on the 
animal’s neck, struggling frantically to keep 
his hold, then tossed violently against the 
high-backed cowboy saddle. 

For a moment it was a question of which 


Gold Mine 


>37 


way he would be sent flying. But Jack 
fought with all the courage and determination 
that was in him. Each movement of the 
vicious little animal jarred and jolted him 
with terrific force. Spectators, buildings and 
grounds all flashed before his eyes in confused 
streaks of light and dark. 

“ Good for you, Jack ! " 

Bob Somers' loud yell carried encourage- 
ment to the big boy's heart. He dug his 
knees hard against the heaving form, and just 
as it seemed beyond human endurance to stand 
that nerve-racking bucking another instant 
the sorrel quieted down and stood stock still, 
his dilated nostrils sending up clouds of steam. 

Before the yells of “ Bravo ! " and “ Bully 
boy!" had subsided, Jack Conroy slipped to 
the ground, handed the reins to one of the 
cowboys, and walked unsteadily to the corral 
wall, his head in a whirl. 

“ You’ve done splendidly, Conroy," ex- 
claimed Mr. Irwin. 

The big boy's brain was clearing ; he began 
to swell up with pride. 

“ I knew I could manage him," he remarked, 
modestly. “ A chap only has to make up his 


138 The Rambler Club’s 

mind to tame ’em. A bronc can tell who’s his 
master every time — remember that, fellows. 
It’s keepin’ up your nerve that counts. You 
see ” 

“ Oh, you can cut it out, Jacky,” roared Tom. 
“ Don’t lean against that wall so hard. You 
might push it over.” 

“ Well, there’s one thing I can’t allow you 
to cut out, and that is having supper with us,” 
interposed the ranchman, with a smile ; “ eh, 
boys?” 

The cow-punchers stood around grinning 
cheerfully as Bob spoke up : 

“ We’re certainly obliged, Mr. Irwin. You 
can just bet we’ll stay.” 

“ Those seven broncs pulling all together 
couldn’t drag us away,” declared Dave, 
solemnly. “ I feel dreadfully in need of 
rest.” 

It was growing late when they again entered 
the big, inviting room at the ranch-house. 
Two huge hanging lamps were lighted before 
the glow from a flaming sunset sky had entirely 
left the walls. 

While the table was being arranged for sup- 
per, the cattle king concluded with Bob a 


Gold Mine 


‘39 

bargain for nine bronchos, two to be used as 
pack horses. 

“ How about your provisions ? ” asked Mr. 
Irwin, finally. 

“ I suppose we’ll have to get them in Raw- 
don,” answered Bob. 

“ You’ll do nothing of the sort.” Mr. 
Irwin’s tone was emphatic. “ You know, 
with such a number of men to feed, we have 
to keep a well-stocked storehouse. I can let 
you boys have what is necessary.” His laugh 
rumbled again. “ Why — I might even make 
a profit out of the deal.” 

Bob smiled with satisfaction. Heartily 
thanking Mr. Irwin, he accepted the offer. 

“ Say, fellows I ” he cried, raising his head. 

“ I tell you there’s nothin’ hard ’bout this 
broncho bustin’,” came in Jack Conroy’s voice. 
<# It’s easy — why, I remember the first time I 
got on a pony, Dick, I was nervous to beat the 
band. But now it’s a hop, skip an’ a jump. 
Eh — what’s that, Bob — won’t have to go to 
Rawdon for the grub?” 

Bob’s explanation brought forth a cheer, 
which made drowsy Dave Brandon sit up 
with a start. 


140 The Rambler Club’s 

They spent a jolly time at sapper, and 
afterward there was more noise and fun in 
the big dining-room of the old ranch-house 
than its walls had echoed to in many years. 

Cowboys related tales of the range ; several 
of them who couldn’t sing tried to, just the 
same ; Bob gave a recitation, and Jack Conroy 
whistled what he declared to be an operatic 
air, causing most of his hearers to feel glad 
that it was his only selection. Mr. Irwin 
politely refrained from telling him that he was 
better at riding bronchos. 

The cattleman insisted upon their spending 
the night at the ranch ; so they finally bade 
the men good-night, gathered up their blankets 
and were conducted up-stairs to a room in the 
wing. 

“ It’s the only place I can offer you, boys,” 
he said, regretfully. “ Hope you’ll be able to 
make yourselves comfortable.” 

The flashing rays of his lantern disclosed an 
apartment partly filled with odds and ends. 
Near one side a ladder led to the roof. 

“ Oh, we’ll make out all right,” laughed Bob. 

A few minutes later the seven were alone. 
Two lanterns suspended from staples in the 


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141 

wall threw grotesque shadows over the rude 
board flooring. 

“ Isn’t this the cheerful-looking place, 
though?” murmured Tom, shivering slightly. 
“ Gee I Pretty near as bad as that bridge at 
Wild Oak.” 

“ A heap worse, Tom,” grinned Dick. “ In- 
side spookiness beats outside ghostliness every 
time. But it won’t bother me a little bit.” 

Their voices and footsteps echoed with a 
strange, hollow sound as they walked over the 
creaking boards. 

“ An’ talkin’ ’bout broncho bustin’,” began 
Jack, suddenly, “ why ” 

“ Who’s talking about it?” chirped Tom, 
rudely. “ Forget it, and let’s turn in.” 

It wasn’t very long before this advice was 
followed. They rolled themselves in blankets 
and selected the most comfortable places they 
could find. Conversation began to lag and 
soon stopped altogether. 

Several hours must have passed, when 
Dave Brandon, turning over in an instant of 
wakefulness, caught through his half-closed 
eyes the vision of a dark form blurred against 
an open window. 


142 


The Rambler Club’s 


With a startled exclamation, he hastily 
threw aside his blanket and sat up. 

“ That you, Dave?” Bob Somers’ low 
whisper reached him. “ Come on over.” 

The stout boy rubbed his eyes, grinned 
cheerfully at the recollection of his scare, and 
quietly arose. 

None of the sleepers budged as he carefully 
stepped around them. One of the lamps 
had gone out, and the dim yellow rays of the 
other failed to penetrate into the far corners 
of the room. 

“ Well, Bob?” queried Dave. 

“ The biggest rat in Washington awakened 
me,” grinned Bob ; “ heard a loud scamper- 
ing, and raised up just in time to get a good 
look at him — a whopper ! See anything, 
Dave ? ” 

Brandon poked his head out in the fresh, 
crisp air, and gave an exclamation. 

Rising in the east, over a range of rugged 
hills, the moon hung in a deep, somber sky. 
A tree top rose against its dull, golden sur- 
face, but everything else in the vast expanse 
of nature seemed dim and formless. Barns, 
sheds and corrals made mysterious, irregular 


Gold Mine 


H3 


patches, even the white walls but faintly 
seen against the darkened turf. A screaming 
hawk passed swiftly across the star-studded 
sky. 

“ Isn’t it great ?” began Dave, in cautious 
tones. “ Wouldn't have missed this for a 
whole lot, Bob. Why — what’s the matter ? ” 

The other had pushed his shoulder gently 
around so that he faced the northwest. 

“ That isn’t what I wanted you to look at. 
See anything else? ” questioned Bob. 

“ See anything else ! What ” 

“ A light ! ” 

“ A light ! Where, for goodness’ sake ? ” 

“ Over the top of that hill.” 

Dave peered eagerly through the gloom. 
Sure enough, a tiny glow was flaring against 
the blackness, sometimes disappearing, then 
coming into view again and shining as a faint 
reddish glimmer. 

Some one was out there, and Bob Somers’ 
lips framed the word, “ Who ? ” 

Dave shook his head. 

There was something fascinating in the 
sight of that faint illumination which linked 
the wilderness with civilization ; so the two 


H4 


The Rambler Club’s 


watched it in silence for several moments. 
Finally Bob spoke up : 

“ Let’s get out on the roof, Dave,” he whis- 
pered, “ and take a squint at it through the 
field-glass.” 

The literary boy, yawning, nodded assent. 

Shutting the window, they tiptoed softly 
across the room, casting a look at the 
sleepers. Jack Conroy, partially aroused, 
began to mumble : 

“ No, I tell you ; he couldn’t have thrown 
me; no, sir; not in a hundred years ! ” Then 
his regular breathing told that he was fast 
asleep again. 

The trap-door was mighty hard to budge, 
but Bob Somers, after some time, worked it 
loose, and they cautiously climbed out upon a 
gently-sloping roof. 

The moon had now risen high enough to 
send a faint silvery sheen across the quiet 
landscape and light up in ghostly patches the 
ranch-house and its tower. 

Bob raised the field-glass to his eyes and 
looked earnestly at the little spot of flaring 
color. Instantly it seemed to be flashed start- 
lingly near. 


Gold Mine 


H5 


A tracery of underbrush could just be dis- 
tinguished rising in front, but the flames were 
still hidden by the hilltop. 

“ Wish to thunder it was on this side,” 
murmured Bob. “ Wonder who it can be — 
not cowboys, that’s sure ! ” 

“ Hunters, perhaps,” suggested the other. 

“ Don’t you think it’s a little odd, Dave ? 
Hello! Gee!” 

An indistinct form — unmistakably a man — 
had suddenly come into the field of view, a 
tiny speck between him and the light. Ea- 
gerly he kept his eyes fixed upon it, and gave 
a sigh when it dropped from sight. 

The field-glass passed from hand to hand, 
while the boys speculated and watched the 
moonlight slowly changing the face of nature 
with its radiance. The silence of the night 
was oppressive. Occasionally a sound came 
from the corral, but that was all ; even the 
breeze seemed stilled. 

“ Well, I guess it’s no use to stay up here 
any longer.” Dave’s voice, almost stifled by 
yawns, came in a low tone. “ Had enough, 
Bob?” 

“ Sure thing, Dave. I’d give a lot to know 


146 The Rambler Club’s 


who those chaps are and what they're doing 
out here." 

“ So would I,” grinned Dave, “ but not the 
rest of our night's sleep. Hope that prize rat 
of yours doesn’t get too familiar.” 

In another moment the two had descended 
the ladder and were steering a careful course 
through the dimly-lighted room toward their 
blankets. 


CHAPTER X 


ON THE TRAIL 

The Ramblers were so pleased with the 
ranch-house and their new-found acquaint- 
ances that next morning they accepted the 
cattle king’s invitation to remain another 
twenty-four hours. 

Two days later they were lolling on the 
shore of a lake surrounded by magnificent 
hills. In places they saw almost perpendic- 
ular walls of glistening rock, wild-looking 
slopes covered with timber, and jutting crags. 
And all this appeared again, with wonderful 
clearness, in the still water of the lake. 

The bronchos, tethered to trees close by, 
cropped the long tangled grass or drank from 
a shallow inlet which extended some distance 
back. 

A noonday repast had just been finished, 
and the glowing coals were still sending out a 
grateful warmth, for the air was cold and 
penetrating. 


147 


148 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Where are we, I wonder ? ” murmured 
Jack for the tenth time. 

“ Somebody had better run over to the 
corner grocery and find out,” grinned Tim. 
“ Want to send some picture postals home ? ” 

“ How in the dickens shall we ever find our 
way back to anywhere ? ” went on Jack, grum- 
blingly. “ May take the rest o’ our lives to do 
it. We haven’t even seen a glimpse o’ that 

mountain where Wanna’s gold mine ” 

“ Hey, cut it out, Jacky,” interposed Dick. 
“ You’re breaking rule number one again — 
that makes the seventy-eighth time.” 

“ Suppose you think some bear, or little 
birdlet, or panther is listening ! ” jeered Jack. 
“ Plang it ! Bet nobody else would be silly 
enough to fight his way through walls o’ 
bushes an’ wade wet creeks like we have. 
How do you know we’re goin’ in the right 
direction, eh ? ” 

“ Compass tells us that, Jack,” laughed 
Bob. “ Don’t worry yourself. By to-morrow 
we may sight it. Time’s up, fellows ! ” 

“ Whoop ! ” cried Tim, suddenly springing 
to his feet. “ Great Scott ! ” He stopped 
short, and bent forward, a hand to his ear, 


Gold Mine 


149 

listening intently. “ Did you hear that, 
fellows ? ” 

The report of a gun had echoed faintly. 

There was a murmur of surprise and in- 
terest. 

Tim thrust his hands deep in his trousers 
pockets, drew a long breath and stared blankly 
at the others. 

“ Can you believe it? ” he said, softly. 

Crack ! 

For a second time, the silence of the wilder- 
ness was-feroken. 

All the boys were now on their feet, eagerly 
trying to locate the direction from which the 
sound had come. But opinions hopelessly 
disagreed. 

“ Jehoshaphat ! ” howled Dick, after a 
moment’s tense silence. “ That shows how 
much Jacky knows — and he thinking that we 
had this corner of the earth all to our little 
selves. Whoop ! ” 

“ What’s that grunt for?” sniffed Jack. 

Tommy’s face was turned inquiringly 
toward Bob Somers. 

“ What do you think of it — hunters, eh?” 
he queried, earnestly. 


150 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Search me, Tom.” 

“ Wliat in the dickens do we care who it 
is ? " growled Jack, shrugging his shoulders. 
“This gold — er — er — Jabberwock, I mean, 
has you chaps all nervous ; it beats the 
Dutch how you're actin'. Don't you all 
begin chirpin' 'bout me again ; mind now." 

“ Perhaps it's the same crowd that was 
camping out near the ranch-house," remarked 
Dave, thoughtfully. 

“ I hardly suppose they would be keeping 
so close to us as that," said Bob. 

“ Unless they had a good reason to," hinted 
Tim, darkly. 

“ Oh, shucks ! Listen to him ! " scoffed 
Jack. “ Didn't you ever hear o’ hunters an' 
trappers before ? " 

“ An' nine broncs plungin' through under- 
brush an' grass an’ swampy ground have made 
a trail that any good woodsman could follow." 
Tim appealed to the others : “ Eh, fellows ? " 

“ Sure thing," answered Sam. “ Still, we 
needn’t worry ; I guess there isn't any danger 
of anybody trying to track us, even if Ja " 

“ Don’t say it ! " howled Jack. “ Might 
think from the way you fellows talk I was 


Gold Mine 


151 

the only one who had a word to say ’bout 
it.” 

“ Quit scrapping,” laughed Bob, good- 
naturedly. “ There are a lot of hunters in 
this part of the country. Forget it, and help 
me stamp out this fire.” 

When they were certain that nothing re- 
mained but a heap of charcoal, the seven 
walked toward the bronchos. 

“ Oho,” sighed Dave, with a glance at the 
tree-covered heights above, “ I can see our 
jobs cut out for us. Whoa, Whirligig, whoa ! 
Everything put back on the packhorses, Bob? 
Good ! My turn to lead one, and Dick the 
other, eh ? Well, such is life in the wilds. 
Here, Whirly ! ” 

He untethered the restive broncho, and 
coaxingly patted a brown-patched neck. 
Then, with a nimble spring, Dave was astride 
his back. 

“ The lake shore route,” quoth Bob ; “ hill’s 
too steep yet to climb.” 

The seven horsemen rode in single file, the 
steady hoof-beats alone breaking the soft mur- 
muring roar of the wind in the forest. At 
every turn the scenery became more wild and 


152 


The Rambler Club’s 


impressive. Dense masses of vegetation defied 
them to attempt a passage. Frowning reddish 
cliffs, where erosion had worn away the soft 
facing of whiter rock, towered high above, to 
deeply shadow the line of shore. 

Passing around one of these crags, Bob 
Somers, at the head of the column, came to a 
halt. 

“ Here’s a chance to force our way up, fel- 
lows,” he said. 

“ I can feel myself gettin’ cracked an’ swiped 
by about a hundred dozen branches already,” 
remarked Conroy, with a dubious glance at 
the hill. “ Whoa — whoa ! W-h-o-a, I s-a-y ! ” 

Conroy’s pony was hard to manage ; sud- 
denly he whirled about, crashing against the 
side of Dave’s packhorse with unpleasant 
force, then backed toward the water’s edge. 

“ Look out, broncho-buster ! ” yelled Tim. 
“ This isn’t swimming weather.” 

Jack brought his quirt down with stinging 
force, and the broncho, snorting angrily, 
leaped forward, landing with a jolt which al- 
most unseated his rider. 

“ Confound the vicious little beast ! ” cried 
Jack, red-faced and flustered. 


Gold Mine 


i53 


Bob Somers’ broncho had already started 
up the hill, fighting bravely to force a passage 
through a mass of underbrush. In places 
trees grew so close together as to leave scarcely 
room enough to pass between ; and frequently 
only quick and skilful dodging enabled them 
to escape low-hanging branches. Once Dick 
Travers was almost swept from his saddle by 
a sturdy limb which he imprudently tried to 
thrust aside. 

Not long after, a yell came from Tommy 
Clifton. “ Wow ! My, oh, my, but that 
stung ! ” he sang out, as a branch pushed for- 
ward by the Rambler in advance suddenly 
came back and lashed his shoulder. “ Look 
out, Jack ; it’ll swipe you, too.” 

The ascent soon became steeper and more 
open. The character of the soil seemed to 
change ; showers of earth and stones rattled 
noisily down the slopes. Presently the bron- 
chos were jammed together in the greatest 
confusion, the way being blocked by a great 
mass of broad-leafed prickly pears. 

“ Great Scott ! Now we’re all at sea on 
land,” chirped Sam. “ Gee ! What queer- 
looking plants ! ” 


»54 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ I could manage if I didn’t have this con- 
founded little packhorse to bother about,” 
grunted Dick. 

The bronchos, in the confined space, were 
fast becoming unmanageable. They started 
to buck and rear, dangerously close to the 
prickly leaves. 

Bob, with a firm hand, wheeled his pony 
sharply about. 

“ We’ll have to get out of this,” he said, 
grimly. “ It wouldn’t be a bit healthy to 
take a header in among that mess.” 

Dave, leading his packhorse after him, was 
now crashing down the slope, and the others, 
with quirts and voices, succeeded in bringing 
their bronchos under partial control. 

When they pulled up some distance below 
for a moment’s rest, all seven were smarting 
from the effects of collisions with numerous 
obstacles. 

“ I wonder what I ever did to these trees, to 
have ’em treat me like this,” chirped Dick. 

“ It’s a dangerous landscape, son,” laughed 
Bob, rubbing his shoulder. 

“ That last crack I got completed the first 
hundred dozen,” grumbled Jack. “ An' more 


Gold Mine 


•55 

to come ! Whoa — whoa, you silly duffer. 
Quick, Sam — get out of the way, or this idiotic 
broncTl sail right over top o’ you.” 

Jack was passing through some anxious 
moments as Sam frantically tried to turn. 
His bronco threshed wildly about, threatening 
to pitch him headlong. Just as he began to 
have melancholy visions of what might 
presently happen, the other managed to get 
out of his way. 

11 Hello, fellows — this way! ” came over the 
air in Dave Brandon's cheery voice. “ I can 
see the top of the hill from here.” 

“ Bully for you ! ” cried Bob. 

He urged his pony ahead, jumped it over a 
fallen tree, and, after passing the edge of a dense 
thicket, found the forest again opening out, 
with the brow of the hill showing high above. 

The riders slowly came together from dif- 
ferent points, and allowed their horses to cover 
the intervening space at a slow walk. 

At the summit they had a magnificent view 
of the surrounding country. The hill had a 
broad flat top, extending off to their left for 
about half a mile, where it dropped almost 
vertically to the plain below. They could see 


The Rambler Club’s 


156 

the rugged end of the cliff joining a steep 
declivity which began only a short distance 
from where they had reined up. 

By keeping to the right, the way led di- 
rectly down into a wide rolling valley dotted 
with clumps of timber. In the distance, range 
after range of hills stretched off, the furthest 
to the north a hazy line of bluish-gray jutting 
against a higher form, which, at first glance, 
seemed to be but a cloud. 

Bob was staring earnestly. 

“ Look, fellows ! ” His voice held a note of 
excitement. “ What is that ? ” 

“ A — a mountain ! ” yelled Tim. “ Sure as 
shootin’ ! Whoop I ” 

“ You’re up in the air, an’ so is that,” 
laughed Jack Conroy. “ It’s floatin’ away.” 

“ An’ you float away, too,” cried Tommy, 
whose eyes were shining with interest. 
“ Whoop ! It’s — it’s the unvarnished truth.” 

“ Get Dave to rub a drop o’ his varnish on 
it, an’ see if it still looks the same,” grinned 
Jack, with a wink. “ That enlargin’ affair o’ 
yours, if you please, Bobby ! ” 

“ We’ll give these broncs a rest, eh?” said 
Bob, dismounting. 


Gold Mine 


>5 7 

He tethered his horse to a convenient sap- 
ling, and raised his field-glass. 

“ Yes, fellows/’ he announced, calmly, “ it’s 
a mountain.” 

“ Whoop — hooray ! ” cried Dick, enthusias- 
tically. 

“ Why, anybody could easily see that with 
only half an eye,” laughed Jack. “ Whoa — 
whoa ! What’s gettin’ into this critter ? ” 

All the bronchos were acting strangely, 
sniffing the air and beginning to prance wildly 
about. Jack Conroy’s was snorting, showing 
every evidence of fear, and all his rider’s 
efforts failed to quiet him. 

“ Whoa, w-h-o-a I ” yelled Jack desperately 
tugging at the reins. “ W-h-o-a ! ” 

The sorrel whirled around in wide circles, 
showing the whites of his eyes ; and each 
moment every broncho in the group seemed to 
grow more frightened. 

“ Thunderation ! ” cried Bob, springing 
toward his own mount, and seizing the bridle. 
“ Wonder what’s the matter? ” 

He looked hastily around. 

A slight commotion suddenly sounded from 
behind a group of trees. All heard a low, 


The Rambler Club’s 


158 

ominous growl ; and even before it had ceased 
Jack Conroy’s broncho, rendered uncontrol- 
lable by fear, had bolted, and was fairly flying 
over the ground directly toward the bluff. 

As the boys realized his danger, they gave 
a cry of alarm. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE RUNAWAY 

Without an instant’s hesitation, Bob 
Somers vaulted into the saddle. His quirt 
came down with stinging force on the broncho’s 
flank. Snorting, the animal bounded high in 
the air — a mad race was on. 

A cold air rushed past Bob Somers’ face as 
the ground began to fall behind at a rate 
which fairly made his head swim. Leaning 
almost upon the broncho’s neck, he urged him 
forward with quirt and voice until the animal 
was galloping at a nerve-racking pace. Trees, 
bushes and rocks seemed to be falling together, 
and whirled by in the wildest confusion. 

A single misstep, and the rider might be 
hurled with crushing force to the ground. 

But Bob Somers gave little thought to this. 
He saw Jack Conroy just ahead, fighting des- 
perately to swerve the broncho from his head- 
long course ; and every instant the sorrel was 
carrying his rider nearer to the brink of the 
cliff. 


159 


160 The Rambler Club’s 


The sight nerved Bob to the most desperate 
exertions. The blows of the rawhide quirt 
fell faster. Frowning brow and grim-set lips 
told of a determination which would never 
give up while the slightest hope remained. 
Faster, but not fast enough, tore his broncho. 

From behind came the sound of a thunder- 
ing cavalcade and shouts of encouragement. A 
cold chill seemed to strike his heart when the 
realization came to him that he was scarcely 
gaining on the runaway. 

“Jump when you get the chance ! ” he 
yelled. 

As his voice was flung to the breeze, Bob’s 
broncho stumbled, and the rider, hurled 
violently forward on the animal’s neck, felt 
its mane lashing his face. With a supreme 
effort, he recovered from the jarring shock. 

“ J-u-m-p ! ” he again shouted, in a ringing 
voice. 

“ J-u-m-p ! ” came high above the din of 
flying hoofs, as the five boys, perceiving that 
their leader’s tremendous effort was doomed to 
failure, yelled with all the power of their 
lungs. 

The cold, clear sunlight shone brilliantly on 


Gold Mine 


161 


the whirlwind of dust and horsemen. Al- 
ready the edge of the bluff stood before them 
with terrifying distinctness, and to the boys 
bringing up in the rear it seemed as if nothing 
now could save Jack Conroy from being 
dashed to pieces at the base of the cliff. 

The steaming bronchos slackened their 
headlong pace — the race was over. 

Meanwhile Jack Conroy was not as badly 
scared or helpless as every one imagined. He 
quickly saw that it was beyond his power to 
check the frenzied sorrel, and knew that his 
only chance to escape lay in keeping his wits 
about him. 

Jolted and bumped, he still sawed desper- 
ately at the bit and struggled to keep his seat. 
Peering through narrowed lids, he kept his 
gaze fixed, with fascinated attention, upon 
the brow of the cliff. A mass of vegetation 
slightly to one side rose before him, and not a 
hundred feet beyond was the fateful goal. 

Within that short space the outcome must be 
decided. In those moments of din and confu- 
sion, Jack felt his heart beating with painful 
force. His eyes were swimming, but his mind 
had never been more clear or determined. 


162 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ I’ve done my best to save the idiotic little 
beast from himself,” he muttered, grimly, 
“ but he’s bound to be dashed to pieces on the 
rocks below. Now, it’s up to me to take a 
leap for life.” 

The moment for quick action had come. 

Pale faced, but resolute, Jack was slipping 
his feet out of the stirrups, when a sudden, 
astonishing vision confronted his eyes — a huge 
dark form had lumbered rapidly out from the 
bushes directly in the path of his onrushing 
horse. 

Bewildered, the boy hesitated. Then came 
a glancing impact which sent him flying over 
the broncho’s head. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE LOST PACKHORSE 

A monster black bear bad collided with 
Conroy’s horse, sending the runaway to its 
knees. 

The astounded leader of the Ramblers saw 
Jack catapulted into the air and bruin knocked 
flat on his back. 

Then his own broncho, with a snort of 
terror, swerved abruptly, dashing off at right 
angles. 

The riderless horse had turned, and was 
now thundering diagonally across the turf. 
Bob Somers’ quick eye saw that nothing could 
prevent his own broncho and the terrified 
animal from crashing together. With light- 
ning speed, he threw one leg over the pommel 
and jumped. 

Jack Conroy lay stunned by the force of 
his impact with the ground. But the fresh 
breeze, together with his strong recuperative 
powers, almost instantly began to restore him 
to his senses. 


163 


The Rambler Club’s 


164 

Presently, scarcely realizing what had hap- 
pened, his thoughts all oddly jumbled to- 
gether, he half opened his eyes. 

A low, rumbling growl brought the light 
of understanding back to his face. With a 
strong effort, he struggled to a sitting posi- 
tion, and stared in open-mouthed wonder at a 
remarkable sight. 

“ Great Caesar ! ” 

A black bear but several yards away was 
just clumsily regaining an upright position. 
Its little eyes were snapping with fear and 
anger. The big chap had been so jarred and 
shaken that only a realization of great danger 
could have induced him to move. 

For a moment, Jack and the bear studied 
each other attentively. It was a wonderfully 
short moment, however. Jack, uttering an 
exclamation, managed to turn and shoot a 
glance over his shoulder. To his amazement, 
he saw Bob Somers approaching on foot at 
top speed and five horsemen fighting to con- 
trol their bronchos. 

“ Thunderation ! ” 

The black bear, having evidently come to 
the conclusion that Jack was responsible for 



ITS LITTLE EYES WERE SNAPPING 






























Gold Mine 


165 

all his misfortunes, gave an angry snarl, 
opened his mouth to show a row of perfect 
teeth, and began to lumber forward. 

Jack wasn’t quite sure whether he had 
been badly injured or not, but decided that 
the time to find out hadn’t come. Pains and 
aches seemed to drop away as easily as the 
dust from his shoulders when he scrambled 
to his feet with a lusty yell and fled. 

The enemy, apparently satisfied at this trib- 
ute to his power, came to a halt, raised his 
shaggy head and gazed curiously at the horse- 
men ; then, uttering a grunt of extreme dis- 
approval, plunged away. 

“ Hurt, Jack ? ” called Bob, breathlessly. 

“ Hurt ? ” yelled the others. 

Jack stopped his flight abruptly. 

Now that all danger, as well as suspense, 
was over, shooting pains in various parts of 
his anatomy began to make themselves felt 
with a force that caused him to wince. 

“ Hurt, Jack?” cried Bob again, as, with 
flying leaps, he reached the big boy’s side. 

Conroy felt his side and shoulder, then his 
arms. 

“ I’ve been dented in about a hundred 


i66 


The Rambler Club’s r 


places, Somers," he grinned, weakly. “ Gee, 
but my shoulder hurts ; that crash when I 
landed was a corker — no bones broken, 
though. What happened to you, Bob? Had 
to jump, eh? Just what I was about to do 
when the bronc-saver came out to say 1 Good- 
day ! ' ” 

The other riders, who by this time had suc- 
ceeded in controlling their horses, cantered 
rapidly up, and Jack was kept busy for a few 
moments answering their excited questions. 

The relief of the crowd was voiced in a 
joyous cheer when all presently realized that, 
in spite of his terrific shaking up and fall, 
Jack Conroy had escaped serious injury. 

“ An’ don't forget a little ‘ tiger ' for the 
bear, fellows," laughed Jack. “ As a bronc- 
saver, he was a daisy. No, I wasn't scared, 
Tommy ; never would have let that silly dub 
of a sorrel chuck me over five hundred an' 
eighty feet through the air — no, sir. Ouch ! 
Wow I Another wireless ! " 

“ We'd better not do any more traveling 
to-day, fellows," suggested Bob. “ Some 
mighty good places to camp right around 
here ; what do you say ? " 


Gold Mine 167 

“ Suits me,” said Jack, ruefully rubbing his 
shoulder. “ I don’t feel quite fit, yet. Say, 
Dave, where’d your packiiorse an’ the other 
broncs get to ? ” 

“ He broke away just as I overtook the 
crowd,” answered Dave, apologetically. “ You 
see, I hadn’t tied the rope very tight, and one 
glance at the bear was enough.” 

“ Oh ! ” Jack stared hard at the landscape. 
“Bet the silly dub’s ’bout five miles away by 
this time, Dave,” he drawled. “ Don’t see ’im 
anywhere.” 

“ We oughtn’t to kick, after your having 
such great luck,” laughed Bob. “ A mighty 
narrow escape, Jack ! ” 

“ For the bronc, you mean,” corrected the 
big lad, dryly. “ Shucks ! This ridin’ busi- 
ness is pie for me, if nothin’ rises off the 
earth to hit the little brute. Let’s see what 
it’s like at the edge o’ the bluff. Then we’d 
better hustle an’ chase after those runaways.” 

Limping slightly, Jack, with Bob at his 
side, walked toward the fringe of bushes. 
Both kept a sharp lookout for bears or other 
foes, but discovered nothing alarming. 

Skirting around the vegetation, they soon 


168 The Rambler Club’s 


came to an open space and peered cautiously 
over the edge. The sight fairly took their 
breath away. 

A wall of barren rock dropped almost verti- 
cally for fully two hundred feet, and from 
that point sloped abruptly to the valley below. 
Here and there, on dizzy-looking ledges, 
patches of stunted vegetation had gained a 
foothold, and, struggling hard for life, added 
a touch of contrasting color to the grim red- 
dish rock. At the base, far beneath them, 
the two looked upon the tops of a dense 
growth of timber, huge slabs of bare rock and 
great boulders. The cliff sent a clear, pur- 
plish shadow over the rolling valley, to cut 
sharply against the glittering sunlight beyond. 

Jack gave a shrill whistle. 

“ Great Scott, isn’t that awful ? ” He shiv- 
ered and drew back. 

“ You bet; and but for bruin your bronc 
might be lying dead at the base.” 

“ That’s right, Somers ! After this, let’s be 
kind to bears. Come on ! ” 

Bob assisted Jack to mount behind Dick, 
then sprang astride Tom Clifton’s broncho, 
and the cavalcade was in motion again. 


Gold Mine 


169 

Reaching the point where the mad race had 
begun, they looked earnestly about for any 
signs of their horses. Those belonging to Bob 
and Jack Conroy were soon discovered peace- 
fully browsing in the direction of a heavily- 
timbered section on the west, but the pack- 
horse had disappeared. 

“ Oh, ginger ! ” groaned Dick. “ Isn’t that 
about the limit ? Hello — he went right down 
into the valley.” 

“ How do you know ? ” asked Tommy, 
quickly. 

“ It’s easy ; the little dub has jolted off 
some of the stuff. See that shiny thing on 
the ground ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” 

“ That’s one of our canteens, sure ; and — 
why — say, there’s the commissary department 
now, away off, just coming up on that rise; 
eh, fellows?” 

“ Yes ; that must be the little brute,” agreed 
Tim, shading his eyes. “Havin’ the time o’ 
his life, too.” 

“ An’ somebody’ll have the time o’ his life 
bringin’ him back,” remarked Jack, with a 
glance toward his own broncho near the 


170 


The Rambler Club’s 


timber line. “ It’ll take about an hour an’ 
eighty minutes, Dave.” 

“ Correct,” sighed Dave. “ It was my 
fault; so the job is up to me.” 

“ Not on your life,” chirped Tim. “ You’d 
be back ’bout the time the moon dragged 
itself up over the hills. Say, Dave, that’s a 
great expression for your book — ‘ dragged 
itself up ’ — eh ? ” 

“ I’ll make a note of it,” laughed Dave. 

“ Whoever is goin’ after the commissary de- 
partment had better drag himself down the 
hill,” remarked Jack, as he slipped from his 
seat behind Dick Travers. 

“ I’ll go with Tim,” announced the latter. 

“ You chaps almost deserve near-hero 
medals,” chuckled Dave, an expression of 
intense relief crossing his round face. “ Look 
out for yourselves. Yes ; we’ll have a fire 
going by the time you get back. So-long ! ” 

“ Or longer,” murmured Tim. “ Whoop ! 
We may have a fine chase.” 

“ Git up ! ” shouted Dick. 

The two cantered swiftly off. Dick stopped 
an instant to pick up the canteen. 

For a long distance the way led through 


Gold Mine 


171 


high, bunchy grass which seemed to undulate 
like waves of the sea as the breeze swept up 
from the valley. Gradually the descent grew 
steeper and more difficult. Ridges, innocent- 
looking from above, became on closer inspec- 
tion difficult passes choked with vegetation 
and rocks. 

The cliff’s frowning heights rose higher and 
higher above them. In the shadow of its 
gigantic crags they reined up for a moment to 
rest their tired bronchos. 

“ Great sight ! ” said Tim, looking up. 

“ I should say so,” answered Dick, shiver- 
ing as he recalled Jack’s recent danger. 

“ Gee ! In all that excitement, I most forgot 
our first glimpse o’ Wanna’s mountain — that 
must be it. In a few days, Dick, if our good 
luck keeps up, we’ll be prospectin’ on its slopes. 
Honest, it gives me a sort o’ funny feelin’.” 

“ If we don’t find anything, Tim, I’ll 
have all kinds of the same brand,” grinned 
Dick, softly. “ Wouldn’t it be fierce? Hello ! 
There’s the packhorse now — third ridge.” 

“ Yes ! Gee ! Let’s whoop it up a bit, or 
he’ll reach the Jabberwock first.” 

In obedience to a touch of the quirt, the 


1 7 2 


The Rambler Club’s 


sturdy little bronchos bounded off, and were 
soon treading in single file a wide expanse of 
soft, marshy ground. On the east they could 
see a dense forest extending off for a consider- 
able distance. 

Presently they were obliged to dismount in 
a wild little gorge, and force their way through 
tangled briars to the brink of a stream which 
tinkled its way merrily between a fringe of 
tall vegetation. 

“ Bet the bronc was smart enough to find 
an easier way than this,” grumbled Tim. 

“ Well, if we’re not smart, we’re smarting, 
all right,” said Dick, with a faint smile, as he 
looked at his scratched-up hands. “ We’ll 
have a nice, cool drink, fill our canteens, and 
let the broncs indulge.” 

The animals quaffed the clear water eagerly ; 
so did the boys. Then, after a short rest, they 
sprang into the saddle again, crossed the 
stream, and urged the bronchos up a steep 
slope. 

At the top, Dick turned. 

“ Hello ! One of the fellows is out near the 
end of the cliff!” he exclaimed, in surprise. 
“ Look, Tim ! ” 


Gold Mine 


>73 


The other cast a glance over his shoulder at 
the rugged heights, deep in shadow. He saw 
the figure of a horseman silhouetted clearly 
against the blue sky, the animal and its rider 
having more the appearance of a bronze statue 
than of life. 

'‘Wonder which one o’ 'em it is?” mur- 
mured Tim, interestedly. 

Dick stared hard and shook his head. 

The horseman stood for an instant longer ; 
then they saw him whip quickly about and 
disappear. 

“ It’s Bob Somers — that's my guess,” re- 
marked Dick. “ We'll soon know. Come 
on, Tim.” 

After a hard struggle, the two finally reached 
the ridge where the packhorse had last been 
seen ; but the animal was nowhere in sight. 

“ Isn't this the dickens of a note ? ” 
growled Dick, in puzzled tones. 

“ The idiotic little brute can't be very far 
off, though.” Tim spoke consolingly. 

There was silence for several moments while 
each lad stood up in his stirrups to take a 
searching look in all directions. Between 
them and the woods was another rise, and 


‘74 


The Rambler Club’s 


beyond this stretched a broad rolling valley 
encircled by high wooded hills. 

The cold, glittering sunlight was fast losing 
its strength ; somber hues were stealing over 
fields of waving brown and yellow grasses, 
and, as shadows deepened and lengthened, the 
dampness and feeling of night crept into the 
air. A dense silence enveloped the vast ex- 
panse of wilderness ; even the breeze which 
gently touched their faces seemed to be dying 
away. 

“ If that bronc doesn’t turn up mighty soon 
we’ll have to hike back without him,” growled 
Dick, glancing at the sky. 

“ Oh, ginger ! That’s only too true,” sighed 
Tim. “ Before the moon comes up it’ll be 
black as pitch.” 

“ And if night falls while we’re down here, 
we may do some falling in going up,” grinned 
Dick. 

“ The prize is yours, son,” laughed Tim. 

For over an hour the boys kept up their 
search, finally reaching a dense forest. They 
ventured only a short distance within its 
shadowed, mysterious depths, for both realized 
that to delay any longer would mean a diffi- 


Gold Mine 


‘75 

cult, as well as dangerous, struggle back to 
camp through the darkness. 

“ An’ we can't do a bit o’ good stayin' here," 
wailed Tim. 

“ Anyway, it's mighty lucky the grub was 
divided up between the two packhorses." 

“ Their ways are beyond understanding." 

“ And suppose we lose this one altogether ; 
wouldn't that be awful? All of our pros- 
pector’s tools snugly tucked away on his 
back, too." 

“For goodness’ sake, don't let's even think 
of such a thing," said Tim, shrugging his 
shoulders. “ Can't imagine where on earth 
the brute has gone." 

“ It means getting up mighty early to- 
morrow morning to look for him again." 

“ And maybe every morning for a solid 
month," added Tim, ominously ; “an' by that 
time he'll have scattered the stuff about till 
the ground looks like the counter of a five an' 
ten cent store." 

Disconsolately, they rode between the great 
tree trunks toward the light again. By fol- 
lowing a route much further to the east the 
two found traveling easier, and pushed ahead 


176 The Rambler Club’s 

at a fast clip. A sunset glow was rapidly 
fading ; valley and plains became a cold, 
cheerless gray ; undulating ridges cut sharply 
against the sky, and the gigantic crags tower- 
ing above them began to assume an air of grim 
majesty. 

A sprinkling of stars was faintly showing 
in the fast-deepening blue when Dick and Tim 
at length came in sight of a camp-fire sur- 
rounded by a group of shadowy figures. 

As the two cantered up, a volley of questions 
was flung toward them. 

“ What ! You couldn’t find the packhorse ! 19 
cried Bob, in astonishment. 

“ Great Scott ! 99 howled Jack Conroy. 
“ This is about the limit.” 

“ And all my fault, too,” sighed Dave. 

“ Bet you’re tryin’ to spring some kind o’ a 
silly joke on us, Tim,” said Jack, suspiciously. 

“ Not a bit of it, Jack.” 

“ Well, by gum ! ” The big boy spitefully 
kicked a glowing ember back into the flames. 
“ We’re in a pretty fix now — but I knew it.” 

“ Knew what? ” 

“ That we were goin’ to run up against 
somethin’ hard pretty soon.” 


Gold Mine 


177 


“ Well, Dick and I ran up against a heapin’- 
over measure o' hard things down there,” 
said Tim, solemnly, holding up his scratched 
hands for inspection. “ Say, is there a bite to 
eat ? ” 

Bob Somers pointed to a brace of quail lying 
on a piece of bark. 

“ Dave and I went back into the woods,” 
he explained. “ Seems to be all kinds of game 
about ; it didn’t take us long to get these.” 

“ Which one of you chaps rode out on the 
end of the cliff? ” asked Dick Travers, casually. 

“On the end of the cliff!” echoed Bob. 
11 Neither Dave nor I was anywhere near it.” 

“ Well, then, whoever it was looked just too 
cute for words ; you, Sam? ” 

“ We didn’t stir from this spot while Bob 
and Dave were away,” answered Sam, earnestly. 

“ What ! ” cried Tim, amazed. 

“ But we saw some one up there,” persisted 
Dick, staring with wide-open eyes at the group, 
“ and if it wasn’t any of you, who in the 
dickens could it have been ? ” 

“Is that another silly joke?” demanded 
Jack, fiercely. 

“ Do you think we’ve just joined the United 


178 The Rambler Club’s 

Order of Funny Men?” snorted Tim, as he 
sprang to the ground. “ It’s the unvarnished, 
bona fide truth ; eh, Travers ? ” 

Dick, holding his impatient broncho by the 
bridle, drew a long breath, and nodded. 

“ Gee I Here’s a nice mystery : first, we 
hear shots ; then, on the same day, a horseman 
rides up and takes a good long squint at us. 
Mighty odd you chaps didn’t run across him.” 

“ Goodness gracious, this place just seems 
full of people,” murmured Tommy, turning to 
stare anxiously in all directions. 

“ And I don’t like it a little bit, either,” 
confided Dick. “ Do you think — that is — 
suppose ” 

“ Say anythin' 'bout Pete Colliver, an’ it 
means a whole lot o’ trouble — remember 1 ” 
howled Jack. He held up a warning finger. 
“ That’s settled — or somebody around here 
will be.” 

“ Oh, get out,” growled Dick, leading his 
broncho to where the others were tethered. 

The boys had selected for their camp an 
inviting spot on a level, grassy stretch. Close 
by, a growth of scrubby trees and underbrush 
supplied them with plenty of fuel. On the 


Gold Mine 


179 


west was a wide, deep gully filled with a 
profusion of vines and weeds, between which, 
here and there, could be seen moss-covered 
rocks. 

“All hands pitch in and get those birds 
prepared,” laughed Bob. 

The quail were soon toasting over a bed of 
red-hot embers and sending forth a savory 
odor. Even the loss of the packhorse did not 
seem to affect their appetites in the least. 

“ Oh, ho,” sighed Dave, as he finished his 
last mouthful, “isn’t that Egyptian blackness 
out there ? ” 

“ Looks to me more like good old Washing- 
ton blackness,” grinned Bob. 

Outside of a dancing circle of firelight, 
everything was lost in impenetrable gloom. 

The boys wondered if the mysterious horse- 
man knew of their presence, and, if so, why 
he had not come forward. Then, discussing 
the prospect of finding their missing beast of 
burden, Jack Conroy cheerfully insisted that 
its innocent young life had probably already 
paid a forfeit to a pack of hungry coyotes. 

Leaving Dick Travers to stand first guard, 
the others finally rolled themselves up in 


180 The Rambler Club’s 

their blankets and turned in, hugging the fire 
closely, for the air had a decidedly wintry 
feeling. 

Dick began to pace to and fro, the soft pat, 
pat of his footfalls mingling with the sound 
of bronchos munching the grass or occasionally 
stamping. It seemed very lonely and desolate, 
but he speculated whether, in that mysterious 
gloom beyond the firelight, there might not 
be other human beings wandering about ; and 
every unusually loud sound of snapping twig 
or rustle borne on the wind made him keenly 
alert. 

A long time passed ; yawns came with 
steadily increasing frequency, and on several 
occasions only heroic efforts saved him from 
falling over into a doze. 

“ Hello,” he murmured, suddenly, “ there’s 
the moon coming up ; isn’t that dandy? ” 

In the east, a faint glow was beginning to 
show. It slowly increased, edging masses of 
low-lying clouds with lines of silvery white. 
Dick almost forgot his sleepy feelings as he 
watched them growing stronger and stronger. 
Presently the rim of the moon appeared in 
view over the hills. 


Gold Mine 181 

“ Gee ! That's a corking fine sight/' mut- 
tered Dick. “ Wouldn't Dave like " 

His sentence came to an abrupt close. 

With a suddenness that made him almost 
jump, the bronchos began snorting and neigh- 
ing loudly, evidently in the grip of frantic 
fear. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE BIG CAT 

Dick Travers was profoundly astonished. 

“ Great Scott I ” he cried. “ What — 

what ” 

As he sprang to the fire, uttering a shout, 
seized a partly-consumed branch and waved 
it aloft, the sleepers awoke on the instant. 

Tom Clifton jumped up and dived for his 
gun. 

“ Now, what’s the matter?” he gasped, ex- 
citedly. 

Dick, without replying, seized his own 
weapon, and holding the firebrand aloft boldly 
pushed out into the darkness. Tom, not to be 
outdone, sprang quickly to his side. 

“ What in the world is it ? ” he muttered, 
in a voice that trembled. 

“ We may soon find out,” answered Dick, 
softly. 

He waved his blazing torch high aloft, 
turned abruptly, and the animals, straining 
182 


Gold Mine 


•83 

at their ropes, fell into gloom again. In a 
few moments the boys had reached the gully. 
Bob Somers and Sam Randall, clutching 
burning brands, crept cautiously beyond the 
circle of light, the others following close at 
their heels. 

“ Watch yourself, Dick ! ” 

Bob Somers’ voice vibrated over the air in 
a thrilling undertone. 

“ Maybe it’s a panther,” cried Jack, ap- 
prehensively. 

“ Or — or — a man,” murmured Tim. 

The bronchos suddenly began snorting and 
neighing again ; their sharp heels, as they 
pranced about, struck the turf with dull, 
heavy thuds. Then came silence — a tense 
silence, which sent creepy feelings coursing 
down their spines. 

“ Great Caesar !” 

Sam Randall almost jumped in the air. A 
loud, piercing yell had abruptly jarred through 
the night. Then : 

“ Look out — help ! ” 

Almost thrown into a panic, the boys 
fastened their eyes intently upon the shadowy 
form of Tom Clifton. They saw him give a 


184 The Rambler Club’s 


sudden spring sidewise, slip, and wildly at- 
tempt to regain his balance. 

The hasty movement sent the gun flying 
from his grasp. Then, with a third cry, he 
toppled over the edge of the gully, to al- 
most immediately disappear from view. The 
startled crowd heard him crashing down 
through the bushes almost before they could 
make a move. 

Bob uttered a cry of alarm. In a couple of 
bounds he cleared the intervening space. 

A shrill screech, coming from behind a 
group of saplings, caused him to hastily fall 
back. 

“ A — a — a wildcat ! ” yelled Sam, excitedly. 
“ Look out there ! ” 

The light from his torch had illuminated 
the grayish form of a big cat. His ears were 
thrown backward belligerently, while a pair 
of yellow eyes, full of sparkle and viciousness, 
glared defiantly toward them. 

Another challenging screech ; the lithe 
body plunged forward. 

“ Look out ! ” yelled Dick. “ He’s coming ! ” 

“ Tommy — Tommy ! ” cried Bob, anxiously, 
“ are you hurt ? Hello, Tommy ! ” 


Gold Mine 


185 

“ No ! ” came an answer, clearly. “ Mind 
your eyes, now — there’s ” 

Bob didn’t hear his concluding words ; the 
cat was already upon him. He acted in- 
stantly. Smack ! The torch, swung with all 
the force of his muscular arms, crashed 
against the animal’s head. There was a sound 
of splintering wood; then a snarl of angry 
disapproval, as hot flames scorched his assail- 
ant’s nose. 

That touch of fire seemed to take all the 
fight out of the wildcat. It lunged sideways ; 
and Dick Travers’ frantic haste to give the 
animal plenty of room brought him up 
against Sam Randall with such force as to 
send the latter crashing to the ground. 

Then the cat swerved abruptly, and, with a 
final snort of disgust, leaped down the slope. 

When Tom Clifton, a badly scared lad, 
looked over the edge of the bank a moment 
later, he could, by the light of a flaring torch 
which lay on the ground, see Sam scrambling 
wildly to his feet. 

“ Great Scott ! What’s happened ? ” he 
cried, breathlessly. “Anybody hurt?” 

Tom’s reappearance was the signal for so 


186 The Rambler Club’s 


many exclamations that his question passed 
without an answer. 

“ Safe and sound ? ” demanded Sam, whose 
voice and manner indicated that he was just 
beginning to get straightened out on the sit- 
uation. 

“ You bet ! ” 

“ By Jupiter, that’s simply great ! The fall 
didn’t hurt you, eh ? ” 

“ No ; but it did the bushes, I can tell you — 
I ripped ’em up a bit. Landed on a ledge. 
Where’s my gun ? Gracious ! That animal 
just missed me by a few feet when he went 
slipping by.” 

Bob gave Tom a hand, and helped him up 
the bank. 

“ I just about walked into that old codger,” 
panted the lad. “ Happened to look around, 
and saw his ugly face most pokin’ me in the 
ribs. That would make anybody give a start, 
eh?” 

“I wouldn’t call it a 1 start,’ Tommy,” 
grinned Sam ; “ I’d say a leap through space. 
How far did you roll ? ” 

“ About a hundred and twenty-five biscuit 
lengths. That’s a pun, eh ? Rolls and bis- 


Gold Mine 


187 

cuits ; and the last bump I got was a cracker- 
jack. Think that cat is going to loaf around 
here waiting for us?” 

“ We’ll be ready for him, if he does,” said 
Sam. 

“ It seems to be a regular menagerie up 
here,” laughed Jack Conroy. “ What’s cornin’ 
next, I wonder? ” 

They straggled back to the fire, piled on 
more fuel, and now as wakeful as they had 
ever been in their lives, watched the pale 
radiance of the moon slowly spreading out 
over the quiet landscape. 

“ Say,” remarked Jack Conroy, as he sud- 
denly rose from his seat on a log, “ I see some- 
thin’ over there that doesn’t look a bit like a 
rock, or bushes ; an’ it isn’t a bear, either,” 
he added, earnestly. “ Come here, Somers.” 

“ I’m in on this,” chirped Tim, springingto 
his feet. His eyes, following the direction of 
Jack’s outstretched arm, took in an odd- 
shaped form moving slowly about in the 
ghostly light. 

“ That is passin’ strange, Jack,” he mur- 
mured, in puzzled tones. “ Thunderation ! No 
animal could have a shape like that and live.” 


i88 


The Rambler Club’s 


The crowd formed a half-circle around Bob 
Somers, as he brought out his field-glass and 
took a long, searching look. When he low- 
ered it, an expression of wonderment rested 
upon his features. Without answering an 
eager volley of questions, he raised the glass 
again, his lips puckering to emit a shrill 
whistle of surprise. 

“What is it, Somers?” howled Jack, im- 
patiently. 

“ Say, fellows ” Bob’s tone, full of 

amazement, caused a tremor of eager expect- 
ancy to run through the crowd. 

“ Well ? ” queried Tim, breathlessly. 

u It looks — looks ” 

“ Like what? ” almost roared Jack. 11 Is it 
a bird, beast, or portable bush ? ” 

“ Fellows, it looks exactly as our packhorse 
ought to in this light and that far off.” 

There was an instant of silence, then : 

“ It can’t be possible.” 

“ Oh, shucks ! You’re jokin’ ! ” 

“ Get out, Bob ! ” 

“ A near-member o’ the United Order o’ 
Funny Men.” 

“ But it does, I tell you ! ” shouted Bob. 


Gold Mine 


189 

He almost pitched the field-glass into eager 
Jack Conroy's hands, seized his gun, and, 
with “ Come on, fellows ! ” flung over his 
shoulder, started off at a loping trot. 

Like a charge of infantry, with weapons 
shining in the moonlight, they swept through 
the high grass, jumped over and around 
obstructions, gradually increasing their pace 
until it became a wild, headlong spurt. 

As they approached the strange-looking 
object, it began to dawn upon skeptical minds 
that, after all, it certainly did bear a striking 
resemblance to the missing packliorse. 

Breathless and excited, the seven covered 
the last stretch in record time, all remaining 
doubts falling from their minds as swiftly as 
their flying feet trod the ground. 

Right before them, clearly revealed by the 
moonlight, was the much-wished-for beast of 
burden. 


CHAPTER XIV 


“ WHERE IS DICK? ” 

“Great Scott !” cried Jack, in joy and 
amazement. 

“ Shout a little louder, will you ? ” said Tim, 
as fiercely as he dared. “ That might start 
’im off an’ give us the chance o’ havin’ an all 
night’s job.” 

The packhorse, with a loud neigh, kicked 
up his heels, and dashed away ; but his long 
rope, catching around a mass of bushes and 
tree trunks, brought the animal to a sudden 
stop. 

“ Doesn’t this beat anything you ever heard 
of?” burst out Dick Travers. “How on 
earth did this bronc ever get back here, eh, 
fellows ? ” 

“ That’s beyond me,” said Sam Randall. 

“ Queerer jinks never happened,” cried 
Tom, his eyes snapping with excitement. 

“ To think that the silly duffer had actually 
sense enough to turn around an’ toddle back,” 
190 


Gold Mine 


191 


murmured Jack. “ Honest, but this is the 
most natural dream I’ve ever had. Aren’t 
you fellows really snoozin’ ’round the fire at 
this very moment? Please don’t wake me 
up.” 

“ Truth is stranger’n dreams, sometimes, 
Jacky,” grinned Tim. 

The seven stood silently a moment, looking 
at each other in the greatest perplexity. The 
return of the packhorse seemed to hold an 
element of mystery which appealed strongly 
to their imaginations. 

Had the broncho returned of his own accord ? 

Bob Somers thought not ; and he voiced his 
convictions a moment later, as he stooped over 
to examine the rope. 

“ Fellows, the bronc never could have 
wrapped it around trunks and branches in 
this way,” he remarked ; “ that’s certain.” 

Dave Brandon’s eyes ran quickly over the 
hemp. 

“ Not in a lifetime, Bob.” 

The crowd, eagerly looking on, nodded 
approval. 

“ I should call this the dickens of a puzzle,” 
piped Tom. 


192 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Maybe that strange horseman we saw on 
the cliff had a hand in it,” cried Dick, 
animatedly ; “ eh, Bob ? Let’s see if any of 
the department store on his back is missing.” 

A quick search revealed everything in its 
proper place. 

“ What does it all mean?” demanded Jack, 
fiercely. “ If some one led the critter back, 
why did he, or they, leave him here? No- 
body could have missed seeing that firelight.” 

“ Ask us a hard one,” chirruped Tim. “ But 
isn’t this the greatest piece o’ luck ? ” 

“ And how long do you think the bronc’s 
been here ? ” asked Dick. 

“ Another poser,” answered Tim. “ Per- 
haps he didn’t arrive until after old Luna 
bobbed up to oversee this part o’ the earth 
again. We could chirp all night about it an’ 

not know. Shall we ” 

“ We shall,” said Dave firmly, between 
yawns. “ The crowd owes a vote of thanks to 
some person, or persons. Every one is over- 
joyed, eh? But it mustn’t prevent us from 
getting our sleep. Whose turn on guard is it 
— yours, Sam ? ” 

“ I’m afraid it is.” 


Gold Mine 


>93 

“ That’s enough to make all the rest of us 
afraid.” 

Smiling broadly, the literary boy walked 
over to the packhorse, seized his bridle, and 
when Bob had unloosened the rope began 
leading him toward their camp. 

Excitement all over, the seven became con- 
scious of an unpleasant chill in the air. It 
nipped their hands and faces, making the 
prospect of hugging close to a roaring fire 
doubly attractive. So, like a victorious little 
army, they hurried along, the moon sending 
their shadows weirdly straggling over the 
• turf, and it didn’t take the boys very long to 
resume their former positions. 

Sam took his turn on guard, and after two 
hours’ lonely vigil aroused Tom. 

When morning came, an astonishing dis- 
covery was made : Dick Travers had disap- 
peared. 

It was Jack Conroy, on the final watch, who 
noted his absence from among the group of 
sleepers. And by this time a cold, gray light 
was spreading slowly out in the east. Ghostly 
streamers of mist hung low, forming cheerless 
barriers to the view beyond. A screeching 


194 


The Rambler Club’s 


hawk winged its way high up. Jack, chilled 
and hungry, stopped his almost ceaseless pac- 
ing to and fro, and came to a halt before the 
prostrate figures. 

“ Hello I ” He stared hard, and rubbed his 
blinking eyes. “ Hello ! Only five o’ ’em,” 
he muttered. “ That’s mighty odd ; where in 
thunder’s Dick ? He didn’t get up while I’ve 
been here, that’s sure. Hello, Dick I ” He 
raised his voice. “ Hello, Dick I ” 

Some of the sleepers stirred, but that was all. 
In the stillness, his voice sounded with a weird, 
sepulchral tone, and he almost shivered. 

“ Hello, Dick — I say, Travers, where are 
you ? ” roared Jack, beginning to suspect that 
Dick was trying to play a joke on him. 
“ Come on, now ; you’ll have to get up ear- 
lier’n this to get ahead o’ me ; trot out ! ” 

Bob Somers hastily unrolled himself from 
the folds of his blanket and scrambled to his 
feet ; so did Sam and Tommy. 

“ What’s up ? ” demanded Bob, quickly. 

“ Dick is,” responded Jack. 

“ Dick?” 

“ Yes ; an’ he won’t answer me, the silly 
idiot.” 


Gold Mine 


i95 


“ How’s that ? He can’t be far off.” 

“ Of course he can’t ; that’s what makes it 
so queer.” 

The buzz of voices awakened Tim, and soon 
all but Dave Brandon were upon their feet, 
eagerly discussing the strange affair. 

Sam and Tom explained that during their 
watches they had paid but little attention to 
the sleepers. 

“ Could Dick have left without your know- 
ing it ? ” asked Bob. 

Sam nodded. 

“ Sure thing, Bob. Sometimes I hiked 
quite a long distance from the fire.” 

“ Me too,” chimed in Tom. 

“ No ‘ me too ’ business here,” asserted Jack. 
“ Travers never skipped out while I did my 
little stunt o’ soldierin’ ; no, sir.” 

“Oh, cracky! I wonder what it all 
means I ” wailed Tom. 

“ And so do I,” came in drowsy tones from 
a recumbent figure. “ You chaps make such 
a hullaballoo I — I — can’t — sleep.” 

Dave’s eyes were closing again, when a loud 
“ Dick’s missing ! ” from Jack Conroy opened 
them wide. 


196 The Rambler Club’s 

“ What — what ! ” gasped the stout boy, 
promptly raising himself on his elbow. 
“ Dick missing ! ” 

“ Sure as shootin’, Dave ; he beat it, an’ 
without sayin’ a word.” 

“ Did he take his gun ? ” 

“ Yes ; but he couldn’t do any huntin’ by 
moonlight ; an’ why is he stayin’ away such a 
long time, eh ? — it’s been hours.” 

Dave, now thoroughly awake, slowly arose, 
a worried expression on his round face. 

“ Oh, I10, but it is strange,” he murmured. 
“ Risky business to be prowling around alone 
in this wild country.” 

“ You bet ! ” came from Jack. “ Bears, 
panthers an’ wildcats likely to be hidin’ be- 
hind any rock or thicket.” 

“ Dick isn’t the sort of fellow to do such a 
thing without having some good reason.” 

“ What could it be, Dave? ” 

“ Goodness' only knows.” 

“ Confound it ! This is worse than the 
packhorse mystery,” grumbled Tim. “ Let’s 
yell again, an’ if there’s no answer some o’ us 
ought to prospect around in a hurry.” 

A volume of ear-splitting sounds rushed off 


Gold Mine 


197 


into space. But neither it nor several others 
which followed brought forth the slightest 
response. 

The boys looked at each other with wor- 
ried faces. 

“ Gee I I don’t like this a bit,” confessed 
Bob. 

u If Dick is playin’ a joke on us I’ll — I’ll 
make him sorry for it,” stormed Jack. 

“ Let’s get away from here,” cried Tim, 
dashing toward the horses. 

The bronchos were quickly saddled ; Bob, 
Jack and Tim vaulted upon their backs. 

“ By the time you have grub ready, fel- 
lows, we’ll probably be here with Dick,” 
cried Bob, as he gave his pony a touch of the 
quirt. 

The three cantered briskly toward a line of 
vapory blanket which still stretched gloomily 
across the landscape. A few moments later 
their forms were enveloped in the mist and 
the clatter of hoofs quieted down. 

Separating, the three rode about for almost 
an hour, frequently sending over the air the 
Rambler Club’s special signal. But only 
mocking echoes answered. It seemed as 


198 The Rambler Club’s 

lonely and desolate a9 a country never before 
trodden by human beings. 

Meanwhile, the sun, shining like burnished 
gold through gray clouds, rose higher and 
higher, and the mist became slowly dissipated. 
From their widely separated positions the 
boys eagerly scanned the rolling valley, but 
not a sign of Dick Travers could be seen. 

When they came together again, gloomy 
feelings were mirrored upon their faces. 

“ Worse and worse,” cried Bob. il I’ll fire ; 
perhaps he’ll hear that.” 

Crack ! A puff of smoke floated slowly off. 
Crack I Another thin column joined it. 

“ Nothing ! ” Bob Somers’ voice had a 
cheerless ring. 

They cantered back to camp, where the 
others, hoping every moment to have their 
anxiety relieved, awaited them. Their ques- 
tions showed plainly how much they were 
disturbed by the unexpected event. 

“ It beats the Dutch ! ” cried Sam, after Bob 
had explained. “ Where in the world can old 
Dick be ? ” 

“ I feel sure he’s all right,” said Dave, 
though his voice trembled slightly. 


Gold Mine 


199 

Bacon and flap-jacks were nicely browned, 
while a big coffee-pot hissed joyously upon a 
bed of red-hot coals ; but the six had almost 
forgotten hunger, only taking time to eat so 
as to sustain their strength. 

“ Fellows, I move that we go to the end of 
the cliff ; it's a good lookout point,” suggested 
Dave, when the hasty meal was over. 

“ Bully idea,” agreed Jack. 

“ An’ let’s go right away,” added Tim. 

Breakfast dishes, unwashed, were piled into 
a bag and thrown on the back of a packhorse, 
and a few moments later, with Sam leading 
Dick Travers’ mount, the bronchos were 
spread out over the level surface, pounding 
along at a fast gallop. 

The sting of the cold air rushing by seemed 
to bring out every spark of life in the fiery 
little animals ; they fairly flew, and their 
riders made no attempt to check the headlong 
flight until a line of vegetation looming dis- 
tinctly into view warned them that the edge 
of the cliff was near. 

With almost one accord, they reined up, 
sprang to the ground, found convenient places 
to tether their ponies and then walked out to 


200 


The Rambler Club’s 


the point upon which Bob and Jack had stood 
the day before. 

Six pairs of eyes keenly scanned the vast 
stretch of nature. It was Dave Brandon who 
presently broke the tense silence. 

“ Look I ” he said, simply, extending his 
arm. 

Far off, by the line of timber, they saw a 
tiny thread-like line of blue rising almost 
straight in the air. 

“ Smoke !” yelled Jack, excitedly. “ By 
Jove ! A camp-fire — it — it must be Dick’s.” 

“ Of course,” piped Tom, enthusiastically. 
“ Hooray ! Knew all the time he was safe. 
Wow ! Isn’t this great, though ? ” 

Bob Somers shook his head. 

“ No use shouting too soon,” he said, reflect- 
ively. “ Why should Dick have built a fire 
away down there in the valley ? ” 

“ Instead o’ cornin’ back to camp,” sup- 
plemented Jack. 

“ Yes ! ” 

“ That’s the next poser, all right,” admitted 
Tom, with a shade of disappointment. “ It 
might be that horseman Dick and Tim saw 
up here. And say ” 


Gold Mine 


201 


“ Well ? ” queried Tim. 

“ Perhaps Dick and he happened to run 
across each other, and Dick thought he’d stay 
with him for a while, just for a lark, eh ? ” 

This idea did not appeal to the others. 

“ Not on your life,” scoffed Tim. 

“ Suppose we fire off a few rounds,” sug- 
gested Dave. “ If Mr. Unknown should 
happen to hear the racket, he might come out 
from that timber and favor us with a view of 
himself.” 

“ You’re certainly the candy kid, all right,” 
laughed Bob, taking the field-glass from its 
case. “ Go ahead with the firing.” 

Several guns were immediately pointed in 
the air. 

“ One — two — three ! ” counted Bob. 

A thunderous report which almost deaf- 
ened them was carried off on the slight 
breeze. 

Bob had his eyes to the field-glass. The 
thread-like line of smoke became a whirling 
column, apparently close at hand. In eager 
expectancy, he kept the instrument directed 
close around it, uttering an exclamation as a 
hoped-for event actually occurred. 


202 


The Rambler Club’s 


A boy was seen moving about at the edge 
of the timber. 

Presently he came out into the open, look- 
ing so clear and distinct that something 
strangely familiar in his appearance made 
Bob draw a long, deep breath. 

“ Goodness gracious ! ” 

“ Now what?” cried Jack, impatiently. 
“ These ” 

Perceiving that Bob had extended the glass 
toward him, he stopped suddenly and seized 
it. 

“ By all that’s wonderful ! ” 

In the field of view Jack saw a short, 
stocky figure, easily recognizable. Then : 

“ Pete Colli ver ! ” fell from his lips. b , 


CHAPTER XV 


RISKY BUSINESS 

When Dick Travers wrapped himself in 
his blanket and lay down by the fire, his 
thoughts, stirred into activity by the myste- 
rious return of the packhorse, prevented him 
from sleeping. For some time he wooed 
slumber, then sat up, staring disgustedly at 
the crackling fire. 

Like a flash, an idea popped into his head. 

“ If I can’t sleep, it’s no use staying here,” 
he muttered. “ Why not ” 

Dick’s head dropped, as Sam slowly ap- 
proached, his form remaining as motionless as 
any of the sleepers until the sentinel again 
wandered off into the moonlight. 

“ I’ll do it,” said Dick to himself, his 
imagination fired with a brilliant scheme. 
“ Yes, sir ! And if I should find out anything 
wouldn’t those chaps be surprised ? Gee ! 
It’s a heap better than sleeping.” 

He waited until Sam was some distance off, 
then rose softly to his feet, buckled on his 
203 


204 


The Rambler Club’s 


cartridge belt, seized a gun from the stack, 
and silently stole away. 

Watching his opportunity, he found it an 
easy matter to avoid the unsuspecting Sam, a 
detour and convenient vegetation soon putting 
him beyond danger of detection. 

And now that Dick was actually on the 
way, he began to have serious doubts. 

“ Bet Jacky ’ud call me a silly idiot, ” he 
reflected, with a grin, “ but, sure as shooting, 
somebody brought that bronc back, and I 
might discover a camp-fire — it isn’t likely, 
though. Still — well, hang it all, there’s no 
sense in backing out now.” 

He found a certain pleasure in wandering 
about alone in the poetic moonlight, and also 
a feeling of danger which kept him keenly 
alert. 

When Dick reached the spot where the pack- 
horse had been found he came to a halt and 
studied the ground carefully, but his effort was 
unrewarded. Then he circled slowly around 
the bushes, sometimes on his hands and knees, 
hoping to discover some evidence of a trail 
through the tall grass. Still there was nothing. 

With a muttered exclamation of disappoint- 


Gold Mine 


205 

ment, the boy straightened up and walked 
toward a knoll almost covered with tall 
cedars. Standing in their long, bluish 
shadows, he looked over the immensity of 
valley and hill, solemn and mysterious in the 
silvery sheen of the moon, with a strange 
feeling of awe and pleasure. 

Almost forgetting his mission, Dick stood 
absorbed in its contemplation, when he re- 
ceived a shock which made his knees tremble 
violently. 

A human voice had spoken, and the words, 
though faint, had reached his ears. 

“ I tell ye I did hear somethin’, Pete Colliver; 
thar’s some critter prowlin’ ’bout.” 

“ Pete — Pete Colliver ! ” gasped Dick Trav- 
ers ; “ and — goodness gracious — Jimmy of 
Sellade ! ” 

A whirlwind of thoughts began coursing 
through his brain. Now the mystery of the 
packhorse’s return was explained ; all their 
suspicions regarding Pete Colliver were con- 
firmed — and in this startling fashion. What 
were the lumber-boys doing out there in the 
wilderness? There could only be one answer 
to that — tracking them. 


206 


The Rambler Club’s 


For a moment, the queer mixture of feelings 
in Dick Travers’ head made him almost dizzy. 
Then the familiar sound of Pete Colliver’s 
voice steadied his nerves. 

“ Wal, let the critters prowl. Ye ain’t 
skeered none, is ye, Jimmy ? Mebbe ’twas 
them fellers a-runnin’ ag’in. Ha, ha, but 
ain’t they an easy lot? My, oh, my! Didn’t 
I near bust a-tryin’ not ter laff when they 
comes a-swingin’ Tong ter see that hoss ! Ha, 
ha!” 

“ I never seed sich ninnies afore,” laughed 
Jimmy. “ An’ did ye pipe how the fat un 
could run ? ” 

“ Wal, ye kin jist bet I did ; an’ if I ever 
gits a-wrastlin' with ’im that’s the way he’ll 
beat it to the tall timber, Jimmy. Maybe the 
hull crowd o’ 'em wasn’t skeered o’ me, eh ? ” 

As Dick, not yet recovered from his aston- 
ishment, listened to these uncomplimentary 
remarks, his eyes flashed. But this feeling of 
anger lasted only a moment ; a grin began to 
overspread his face. 

“ Dick, my boy, you deserve a real hero 
medal now,” he thought. “ I wonder what 
old Jack will say to this?” 


Gold Mine 


207 


From his position, Travers could tell that 
the two were very close to him — -just a bit 
down the slope — and he listened intently as 
Jimmy began : 

“ If we’s a-goin’ ter get ter camp to-night 
we’d better be a-toddlin’. Guess old Jim 
Reynolds is gittin’ peevish a’ready.” 

“Jim Reynolds!” gasped Dick. “Chris- 
topher Columbus ! Why, that’s one of Slater’s 
men. Gee ! Maybe it wasn’t a good thing I 
couldn’t sleep ! Isn’t this a discovery, 
though ? ” 

“ That’s what I’m a-stayin’ out so late fur, 
Jimmy ; I want ’im ter git more peevish. He 
ain’t my boss, is he? Didn’t I put ’im on 
to the hull thing, eh ? Ain’t me an’ you took 
all the trouble to track them kids, eh ? None 
o’ the gang kin git gay with me ; I won’t stan’ 
fur it.” 

“ The gang ! ” repeated Dick, reflectively, 
with a start. “ That has a dangerous sound.” 

The loud, incautious voices did not reach 
his ears again for some moments, and when 
he next heard them it was evident that the 
pair had started off. 

Dick scarcely dared to stir from the ob- 


2o8 


The Rambler Club’s 


scurity, but, taking courage, he peered out, to 
see Pete and Jimmy some distance away mov- 
ing slowly toward the valley. 

“ Now what's to be done ? ” murmured Dick, 
elated at his success, yet at the same time 
much disturbed by the thought that their 
plans were so rudely threatened. 

His first impulse was to hurry back and 
arouse the boys ; the second to continue in- 
vestigations unaided, find out where the gang 
was encamped, and have all the glory of a 
brilliant bit of detective work to himself. 

It was a reckless plan, but Dick Travers' 
eyes brightened as he thought of it ; the lines 
about his mouth tightened, and, without 
further hesitation, the boy crept cautiously 
from the sheltering shadow of the trees and 
began moving after the slowly retreating 
forms. 

In the bright moonlight, his task was not 
difficult. He took advantage of bushes and 
clumps of trees, sometimes bending - almost 
double, or dropping to his knees when the 
two figures in advance came to a halt. 

Pete and Jimmy, totally unsuspecting, 
scarcely ever took the trouble to look behind 


Gold Mine 


209 


them. Their course was far to the east, where 
the rolling slopes were more free from vegeta- 
tion. Many times they disappeared from 
sight, but the eager trailer never failed to 
catch a glimpse of them as they reached the 
top of ridges and walked along their crests. 

In three-quarters of an hour Dick saw a 
dense mass of timber not far ahead, forming a 
dark, irregular line against the sky. But 
what presently brought a stifled cry of ex- 
ultation from his lips was a glimmer of light 
showing faintly between the trees. 

“ Hooray I ” he murmured. “ It must be 
their camp. This is the dandiest piece of luck. 
Great Scott ! Won’t the fellows open their 
eyes? And Jacky? — Gee! Bet he’ll nearly 
flop over.” 

Paying little further attention to Pete and 
Jimmy, Dick steered straight toward the 
orange glow, scarcely stopping an instant 
until he was crouching well within the shadow 
of the timber. 

It seemed very dismal and lonely. The 
network of branches met overhead and ghostly 
moonlight formed fairy like traceries upon 
bushes and trunks. In the gloomy, mysterious 


210 


The Rambler Club’s 


depths beyond perhaps many dangerous 
animals might be lurking. 

Dick hung back, irresolute ; then, drawing 
a deep breath, kept on. 

“ Gee ! ” A cold shiver ran through him. 
“ This is risky business now.” 

The glow of the fire presently shone clear 
and bright, while a faint hum of voices came 
weirdly to his ears. 

Dick moved with the utmost care, again 
dropping on hands and knees, crawling around 
underbrush and thickets, working along foot 
by foot, his heart thumping hard, as he saw 
the dancing firelight now sending its rays 
over the branches above his head. Twigs 
smote him in the face ; trailing briars caught 
in his clothes, scratching with a force that 
made him wince, but he had the satisfaction 
of hearing the hum of conversation growing 
louder. Pete and Jimmy, who must have 
stopped somewhere to rest, had evidently just 
arrived. 

“ That sounds like a whopping big crowd,” 
muttered Dick, excitedly. “ Wish to thunder 
I could see a bit better. Horses, too, close 
about ; I hear ’em.” 


Gold Mine 


211 


At the imminent risk of being discovered, 
he had now reached a place where much that 
was said could be understood. 

“ So ye sure seen them fellers git that 'ere 
nag, eh, Pete?” a rough voice demanded. 

“ Bet yer life we did, Jim,” came an answer, 
“ an' they suspicioned, too, as how somebuddy 
had brung it back ; Jimmy an' me hearn 
'em.” 

“ Let 'em s'picion,” growled another voice ; 
“ an' that’s all the good it’ll do ’em. 'Tain’t 
no use a-stayin’ up no longer. Thought ye 
was a-goin’ to take all night, Colliver.” 

“ Oh, I didn't hurry none, VVoodle. An' 
don't ye begin to hand out no sass, now. Yer 
gittin’ ter be as bad as Jim Reynolds. Want 
us ter beat it, hey? Fur five cents ” 

“ Quit scrappin’,” interposed a voice, in loud 
tones, “ an’ turn in. Them kids'll most likely 
be off by the time the sun gits up. That 'ere 
gold mine is as good as ourn a'ready, boys.” 

The conversation continued, while the eager 
listener tried in vain to gain a point of vantage 
which would enable him to get a view of the 
camp. As he stood in the shadow of a tree, 
and looked overhead at the spreading network 


212 The Rambler Club’s 

of knotted branches, another bold idea entered 
his head. 

“ And a mighty risky one,” Dick reflected. 

However, upon studying the situation, he 
became convinced that he could climb the tree, 
take a quick observation, then hasten back to 
camp, having covered himself with glory. 
The temptation was too strong to resist. 

Resting his gun in a safe place, Dick, with 
an earnest glance toward the fire, prepared 
for action. Clasping arms and legs around 
the trunk, he began to slowly work himself 
up. Active and muscular, the boy soon 
grasped hold of a sturdy limb about ten feet 
from the ground, paused an instant, and then, 
making one long effort, pulled himself safely 
astride it. 

“ Whew ! ” he murmured. “ That's work, 
all right. The rest of it ought to be easy, 
though. Crickets ! ” The limb swung a bit, 
rattling its branches faintly. “ Gee I I'll 
have to be mighty careful.” 

With infinite care, he crawled from limb to 
limb, at length reaching one which stretched 
directly toward the beacon of flaring light. 
Dick crept a few feet along it, his nerves 


Gold Mine 


21 3 


tingling with excitement, pushed aside a 
bough upon which still clung a mass of faded 
yellow leaves, and peered intently down. 

The faintest sigh of satisfaction passed his 
lips. A picturesque sight was before him. 
Lolling about beside a big fire were a number 
of men, their faces weirdly illuminated by the 
flames. Pete and Jimmy sat on a log, the 
former still talking loudly. Behind them, a 
number of bronchos were tethered, some 
scarcely seen amid the trees. 

Eager and excited, Dick Travers was in the 
act of counting the men, when, to his horror, 
a loud crack suddenly reverberated. 

As the limb began to bend beneath his 
weight, the boy barely managed to repress a 
cry of alarm. 


CHAPTER XVI 


HIDE-AND-SEEK 

A pang of fear shot through Dick Travers' 
heart; almost involuntarily he threw up his 
hands, catching hold of another limb above 
his head. The branch he was on gave a 
second ominous crack, its dried leaves rustling 
loudly. 

With a supreme effort, he drew himself up, 
the sound of a commotion among the lumber- 
men ringing in his ears. 

“ A panther somewhar in the trees ! ” he 
heard Pete Col liver yell. 

Breathing hard, Dick Travers hung sus- 
pended, his feet dangling in the air. For an 
instant, the fear of a shot being fired made a 
cold chill run through him ; it was on the tip 
of his tongue to let his presence be known 
when he discovered that the men who had 
sprung to their feet were not hurrying in 
his direction. Screened by a multitude of 
branches and leaves, he regained courage. 

214 


Gold Mine 


215 


“ I’ll take a chance and try to get away,” 
he breathed, sturdily. “ My ! If those rough 
lumbermen should happen to find me hang- 
ing around like this,” he managed to smile 
grimly, “ they mightn’t be a bit polite ! ” 

The terrific strain on his arms soon began 
to tell. But Dick, gritting his teeth, twisted 
about, in an effort to see what was going on. 

The men, possibly believing Pete Colliver’s 
explanation to be the right one, were already 
searching around, and a cold perspiration 
began to stand out upon Dick Travers’ face 
when his eyes caught the metallic gleam of 
their guns. 

“ Gracious ! ” he thought. “ Dicky, you’re 
in a precious bad fix. It won’t do to stay 
here two seconds longer.” 

Torches were sending yellow streaks flaring 
among the trees and bushes. Any instant 
their rays might reveal his presence. Dick in- 
stantly began to work his way toward the main 
trunk, the faint noise of his progress drowned 
by the crashing of many feet in the brush. 

“ Wal, the varmint’s scooted ! ” cried Pete, 
presently. 

“ Scooted nothin’ ! ” snorted Jimmy. 


2i6 The Rambler Club’s 


“ Didn’t I tell ye I hearn ’im away back 
thar? The critter follered us, jist a-waitin’ ter 
jump down on somebody’s neck. Hey, what 
was that ? ” 

Dick Travers’ foot had slipped as he rested 
it upon a limb, and, in an effort to save him- 
self, he had caused the branches and leaves to 
rattle sharply. 

“ Hey ! What was that? ” repeated Jimmy, 
in affrighted tones. 

“ I reckon it’s a painter, sure nuff, boys I ” 
cried Tom Smull, falling hastily back toward 
the fire. “ Watch yerselves, or he’ll chaw yer 
head off!” 

“ Skeered, eh ? ” sneered Bart Reeder. 
“ Don’t ye think we uns is more’ll a match 
fur one pesky varmint, Smull ? Come out o’ 
that, an’ stan’ up to it like a man.” 

“ Scar’t ! I ain’t scar’t o’ nothink that 
walks,” retorted Tom Smull, hotly; “ eh, 
Griffin? By gum, listen ter that ! ” 

Dick, in trying to descend quickly, while 
the voices were still raised, had missed his 
hold on the trunk, and gone slipping down- 
ward through yielding twigs and masses of 
leaves. It was more the noise occasioned by 


Gold Mine 


217 


the fall than the mishap which sent another 
icy chill along his spine, for he dropped only 
a few feet, landing on the ground where there 
was sufficient vegetation to break the force of 
his descent. 

Scarcely daring to breathe, he crouched low, 
listening to the excited voices of the searchers, 
and expecting every instant to find himself 
surrounded. 

Again Dick was on the point of yielding 
obedience to his overwrought nerves and 
sending a yell of surrender ; but, somehow, 
it was never uttered. The flickering torch- 
light was again picking out in strong yellow 
dashes the limbs above his head. 

Pressed hard against the tree trunk, Dick 
heard rough, angry exclamations, as vines 
and bushes impeded the lumberjacks’ prog- 
ress, and trembled violently as footsteps grew 
louder. He seemed to be cornered ; his glo- 
rious plan doomed to inglorious failure. 

“ I tell ye, Pete, the critter ain’t fur off,” 
cried Jimmy. “ Keep yer peepers on the 
branches, fellers ! ” 

“ Only hope they do,” reflected Dick. 
“ Csesar ! Wonder if I dare risk it ? ” 


2l8 


The Rambler Club’s 


A few yards distant, the moonlight revealed 
a dense mass of brush and thickets sur- 
rounded by high bunch grass. 

“ With about thirty feet start, I’d wager the 
whole crowd would never find me,” thought 
Dick, grimly. “ I won’t give up yet — no, sir ; 
here goes 1 ” 

Throwing himself flat on his stomach, he 
began to worm his way toward the goal, tak- 
ing advantage of every shadow, a loud crash- 
ing of feet and flaring light close by showing 
that there wasn’t an instant to spare. 

Blades of grass swept into the boy’s face ; 
twigs and sticks made his hands smart pain- 
fully. But, with a firm resolve not to give 
up until every vestige of hope was gone, he 
kept ahead. 

“ Maybe they’ll stop in a few minutes,” he 
reflected. “ Whew ! All kinds of creeps in 
this adventure ! Ah ! ” 

A feeling of relief shot through him, as he 
drew up well in the shelter, and cast an 
anxious look behind. 

The sight was disheartening. A half dozen 
blazing torches could be seen moving about in 
an erratic fashion, sometimes disappearing be- 


Gold Mine 


219 


hind the trees. There was one, and Dick's 
eyes fastened upon it with fascinated attention, 
that kept headed straight toward him. 

With his lips tight set, he crawled still fur- 
ther, snuggling down close to the ground, 
then stopped and began to pull leaves and 
grasses over his body, until the nearness of 
the footsteps warned him that it was time to 
stop. 

“ Now it’s all up," groaned Dick, keyed to 
a high pitch of excitement. 

A heavy footstep close at hand jarred on 
his nerves like an electric shock. Almost 
holding his breath, he gazed fearsomely be- 
tween the twigs of the protecting thicket. 
The searcher was coming nearer every second. 
The suspense was almost more than the boy 
could stand. 

A short, stocky figure suddenly emerged 
into view, skirting around the thicket. 

“Pete Colliver!” flashed through Dick 
Travers' mind. 

A blazing pine-knot which drowned the 
pale green rays of the moon illuminated his 
irregular features with striking effect. Pete's 
little eyes were roving eagerly over every low- 


220 


The Rambler Club’s 


hanging branch, and a grunt of disappoint- 
ment fell from his lips — the search had re- 
vealed nothing. 

“ Bust it 1 Whar has the warmint went, 
I’d like to know ? ” he growled. 

Pete came to a halt within a few feet of the 
prostrate form, waving the torch vigorously 
above his head. Dick felt a cold perspiration 
standing out upon his face again ; another 
move of the young lumberjack might bring 
his heavy boot down upon him. 

Motionless, he stared up at Pete, ready to 
spring to his feet on the instant. 

“ I reckon the warmint’s skipped,” came in 
a surly undertone. Pete stirred, then turned 
sharply on his heel. 

A loud yell had echoed through the forest 
with startling abruptness. 

“ Somethin’ has ketched Tom Smull 1 ” 

The crashing of Pete’s footsteps grew 
fainter ; and, as the yellow torchlight van- 
ished, the pale rays of the moon again came 
in for their own. 

The astonished Dick Travers was once more 
alone. 


CHAPTER XVII 


SOME ONE TURNS UP 

A cavalcade of horsemen was rapidly ap- 
proaching the edge of the timber in which the 
lumbermen's camp was situated, the thud of 
hoof-beats alone breaking the silence of early 
morning. 

With faces grim and determined, the six, at 
a word from Bob Somers, reined up. 

“ Remember, fellows, we don’t want to have 
any scrap with Pete,” he said, casting a sig- 
nificant look toward Jack Conroy. “ Now 
that we know lie’s trailing us, it ought to be 
easy to throw him off the track.” 

“ Pete’s camp must be close here,” added 
Sam. “ Gracious, but don’t I hope Dick is 
with him ! Ready ? ” 

Bob waved his hand. In a moment nine 
ponies crashed noisily between the trees. 
There were now no signs of fire or smoke to 
guide them, but the boys, having judged its po- 
sition carefully, rode ahead without hesitation. 

Within a few minutes their ears were as- 
221 


222 


The Rambler Club’s 


sailed by the sound of loud voices, while a 
crashing of many feet jarred crisply through 
the air. 

“ Great Scott ! 77 cried Bob Somers. “ What 
does that mean ? 77 

Uttering a whistle of amazement, he jerked 
his horse back almost upon its haunches. 
The others followed his example. 

Presently six silent and motionless horse- 
men confronted a crowd of lumbermen. 

The boys gazed at the familiar, bronzed 
faces before them as if their minds could not 
grasp the reality of the scene, while the men, 
fully as astounded as themselves, stared ear- 
nestly back. The heads of Pete Colli ver and 
Jimmy of Sellade were seemingly supported 
by a mass of shrubbery. 

“ Gee ! If we had only done a bit of recon- 
noitering first , 77 flashed through Bob Somers 7 
brain. “ What silly chumps to run blindly 
into a thing like this ! 77 

“ Wal — wall 77 It was Pete Colliver who 
broke the tense silence. His face wore the 
most ludicrous expression of dismay. “ Whar 
did you fellows drop from, hey ? Never ex- 
pected ter see nuthin’ like this . 77 


Gold Mine 


223 

“ I guess that’s right, Pete,” answered Bob, 
dryly. 

“ Howdy, boys ! ” Big Jim Reynolds’ man- 
ner betrayed his embarrassment. “ We’ve been 
a-campin’ right here,” he added, awkwardly, 
“ an’ if ye’d like to have a bit o’ grab, why — yer 
as welcome as the flowers in May, eh, boys?” 

“ I reckon they be,” came from Bart Reeder, 
while Tom Smull and Alf Griffin nodded a 
surly assent. 

“ Thanks, Jim ; we’ve had our breakfast,” 
answered Bob. 

“ See here, Pete Colliver,” exclaimed Jack, 
in his usual abrupt fashion, “ have you seen 
Dick Travers ? ” 

“ Have I saw Dick Travers, hey ? ” Pete 
assumed an attitude which had a decided 
suggestion of belligerency, then whirled 
around on one foot, nodding his head know- 
ingly, and exchanging peculiar glances with 
some of the men. “ Wal, I ain’t seen none o’ 
yer Dick Travers,” he said, facing Jack again, 

“but — but ” Catching a warning look 

from Jim Reynolds, he paused ; a queer light 
had kindled in his eyes. “ Has he went an’ 
lost hisself?” he finished. 


224 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ We don’t know wliat he has went an* 
did,” answered Jack, with tremendous scorn. 

“ Come up to the clearin’, boys,” interposed 
Jim. “ Ye ain’t in no all-fired hurry, are ye? 
’Twon’t cost nuthin’ ter have a sociable chat.” 

“ Mebbe they think as how we ain’t good 
nuff fur ’em,” growled Tom Smull disagree- 
ably, in an aside, to Griffin. 

“ We don’t have a chance to pay many calls 
out here,” said Bob; “eh, Dave? What’s 
that, Jimmy — did we fire those shots you 
heard ? — Sure thing. Whoa, boy ! ” 

He sprang from the saddle and picketed his 
broncho, the others following an instant later. 

With gloomy feelings, more from their 
failure to find any trace of Dick Travers than 
the knowledge that from now on a battle of 
wits would have to be pla}^ed, the boys trailed 
after their conductors. They had recognized 
all but one, having seen them several times at 
Cap Slater’s lumber camp. The exception 
was a large, rotund person with flabby cheeks, 
a snub nose, and a long, flowing mustache of 
a tawny yellow. His attire was strikingly 
different from that of his companions. He 
wore a loud, checkered suit, and a vest which 


Gold Mine 


225 


had once been white covered his capacious 
chest. A bright crimson tie fluttered in the 
breeze, while a derby hat, looking ridiculously 
small, was perched on the back of his head. 
The men addressed him as Buck James. 

“ Bet he never swung an axe in any lumber 
camp,” whispered Sam to Bob. “ Looks like 
a horsy chap — a sport — to me. Cracky ! 
Wonder what Jack thinks now ? ” 

“ Judging by that awful scowl he’s wearing, 
a whole lot,” said Bob. “ I can’t bother about 
anything but Dick. Look out, Jack.” 

The big boy’s elbow had poked him sharply 
in the ribs. 

“ Can you beat it?” exclaimed Conroy, in 
a hoarse whisper. “ Did you ever hear of 
such nerve in your life? Are you going to 
put up with it, Bob Somers ? ” 

“ Only providing we can’t put it down. It’s 
for us to show ’em what kind of stuff we’re 
made of.” 

“ An’ we’ll do the trick, too,” snapped Tim 
Lovell. “ Jacky, can we break your rule num- 
ber one, now ? An’, say, Pete C-o-l-l-i-v-e-r ! ” 
A friendly bush aided him to avoid the big 
boy’s hand. 


226 The Rambler Club’s 


“ Never mind, Smarty,” warned Jack. 
“ Hello ! Look at this horse show I ” 

A number of mustangs, already saddled, 
were packed together in a bunch on the edge 
of the clearing. 

“ Make yerselves to hum,” said Big Jim, as 
they emerged from the timber. “ A purty big 
room, with a high ceilin’, ain’t it?” Reynolds 
chuckled at his bit of humor. “ Hello I ” he 
straightened up, “ thought you was all here. 
Who’s that a-comin’ ? ” 

The crowd of men and boys heard the sound 
of footsteps crashing through the brush, 
and caught glimpses between the trees 
of a form pushing steadily toward them. 

“ By the great horn spoon, I believe — I be- 
lieve it’s actually Dick Travers ! ” cried Bob, 
with an earnest look. 

“ That’s just who it is ! ” almost yelled Tim, 
delightedly. “ Whoop! Hello, you old scamp ! 
Where in thunder ” 

“ Cut out any questions,” advised Bob, in 
low tones. 

Dick Travers, with easy unconcern, stepped 
out into the clearing, nodding calmly toward 
the group. 


Gold Mine 


227 

“ Morning, everybody ! ” he saluted, waving 
his hand. 

“ Wal, bust it, if thar he ain’t ! ” Pete 
stood staring as though he had never been 
quite so surprised in his life, then, with a 
couple of strides, planted himself before the 
newcomer. “ Look hyar, young feller, what 
ye been doin’? ” 

“ What I pleased, Pete Colliver,” snapped 
Dick. 

“ Wal, mebbe it don’t please me.” 

“ Cut it out ! ” roared Jim, angrily. “ Leave 
’im alone ! ” 

The young lumberjack folded a pair of 
muscular arms ; a fierce scowl wrinkled his 
forehead into a network of lines. 

“ D’ye think Pm skeered o’ you, Big Jim ? ” 
he demanded, defiantly. “ I’ll show yer how 
much I be. See hyar, young feller,” his hand 
fell hard on the Rambler’s shoulder, “was you 
a-skulkin’ ’round the camp ’arly thismornin’, 
hey?” 

“ You’re a nice one to talk about skulking, 
Pete Colliver,” retorted Dick, hotly. 

“ That don’t answer my question none, 
feller.” 


228 The Rambler Club’s 

“ Well, I was ; and what have you to say 
about it? " 

Pete's arm dropped to his side ; his eyes 
sought those of Tom Smull’s. 

“ Wal, wal ! If that ain't the limit. Says 
as how he done it ; that's sumphin fur you, 
pard." 

Smull, whose ill-favored visage was criss- 
crossed with scratches, clenched a huge fist. 

“ D'ye know what ye done, boy ? ” he 
demanded, fiercely. 

“If you’ll tell me, I will," answered Dick. 

“ He carries his spunk with him, all right," 
remarked Buck James, admiringly. 

This frank opinion did not find favor with 
Tom Smull. Placing himself before Dick 
Travers, and waving a stubby finger beneath 
his nose, he snarled, angrily : 

“ D'ye see them scratches on me face, boy ? " 

“ Guess I could see ’em a mile away," 
answered Dick, coolly. 

“ Ha, ha — ho, ho ! " roared Mr. James, 
slapping his knees. “ Ho, ho ! Ye ain’t 
smart nuff for 'im, Tommy ; ye'd best quit it." 

Smull, taking no notice of the interrup- 
tion. went on in louder, more warlike tones : 


Gold Mine 


229 


“ Wal, I was a-huntin’ fur a painter when I 
fail’d, nigh head fust, inter a hole all kivered 
up with vines an’ sich truck — an’ you was 
the kind o’ a painter it were, eh ? ” 

“ An’ ye kin see how he’s went an’ 
scratched hisself,” added Pete. “ Griffin said 
he seen some one ’arly this mornin’ sneakin’ 
’bout ; an’ now we know ’twas ye. Git ready, 
feller ! ” 

“ Ready for what ? ” 

Pete dashed his slouch hat violently on the 
ground, and pushed Tom Smull aside. 

“ Bust it ! Ye’ve got ter wrastle with me 
fur that, feller,” he yelled, “an’ thar ain’t 
nobody here what’s big nuff ter prewent it — 
see ? ” 

His muscular arms were suddenly wrapped 
around Dick Travers’ shoulders, when : 

“ Let that boy alone, Colliver ! ” sounded 
a ringing voice. 

Instantly the stocky lad’s hand was stayed. 
Turning swiftly, he saw Dave Brandon con- 
fronting him. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE WRESTLING MATCH 

For a second, Pete Colliver stared blankly 
at Dave, whose usually good-natured and 
smiling visage wore an expression which he 
had never seen upon it before. 

Dick Travers was quick to take advantage 
of the opportunity. An energetic shove 
broke the lumberjack’s hold, and he stepped 
aside. 

“ Wal, wal, fat un ! An’ what has you got 
ter say ’bout it, hey ? ” howled Pete. 

“ Nothing, now,” answered Dave, calmly. 

“ Oh, ye ain’t ; but mebbe some one else 
has, hey? Ye can’t bluff me none, feller.” 

“ Quit it, Colliver ! ” commanded Jim 
Reynolds, sternly. 

** Leave Pete alone, Jim,” growled Smull. 

“ I’ll show ye how I quit it, Big Jim,” cried 
Pete, trembling with excitement. His right 
hand flew around, knocking Dave Brandon’s 
sombrero into the bushes. 

230 



HE NIMBLY DODGED 



Gold Mine 


2 3 ‘ 

The Ramblers sprang forward. But Buck 
James interposed liis big form. 

“ Git back, boys,” he ordered, sharply. 
“ Ye ain’t got no call ter stop a squar’, staiT 
up wrestlin’ match. I’ll see fair play.” 

“ But we ” began Bob. 

“ Don’t bother about me.” 

Dave spoke as quietly as though there was 
no one present but himself and his friends. 

The boys looked at the literary youth in 
astonishment. All knew that Dave Brandon 
had plenty of courage, but they had never 
seen his easy, indolent air fall away from him 
more completely. He stood erect and alert, 
his eye keenly measuring his heavily-built 
antagonist. 

Dave was inches taller than Pete, but the 
wide shoulders of the lumberjack indicated un- 
usual strength. Pete’s red face expressed all 
the joy and satisfaction he felt at having at last 
forced one of the boys to wrestle with him. 

“ I’ll show ye plum quick, big un ! ” he 
cried, springing to the attack. 

Dave was ready. He nimbly dodged the 
flail-like arms, and warily circled away, eluding 
another clumsy effort to seize him by the waist. 


232 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Yer skeered ter stan’ up ter me,” scoffed 
Pete, “ but I'll git ye good an’ hard in a min- 
ute, feller.” 

“ He’s a-turnin’ pale,” said Griffin, with a 
hoarse laugh. 

“ His legs is weak a’ready, Pete,” chimed in 
Tom Smull. 

Dave was moving his arms like a skilled 
boxer, and, by nimble footwork, continually 
evaded Pete’s bull-like rushes. 

“ He must think the movin’ pictur’ fellers 
are takin’ a crack at the show, an’ want him 
ter draw it out,” commented Buck James. 
“ Move in close, you Pete. Watch yerself, 
now — ah ! ” 

Pete had at last succeeded in getting a hold, 
and the two were at it in deadly earnest, 
kicking up the turf, as they struggled back 
and forth over the clearing. 

The boys shouted encouragement to Dave, 
while Smull and Griffin, highly excited, 
crowded so close to the contestants that Buck 
James felt called upon to interfere. 

“ Give ’em room ! ” he commanded. “ Ah ! 
Sarves ye jist right, Tom Smull !” 

Dave, by a tremendous effort, had broken 


Gold Mine 


233 


Pete’s hold, and sent him spinning back, to 
bring up with great force against Tom Smull. 
The latter, swept off his balance, uttered a howl 
of anger, and fell in a heap upon the ground. 

Pete Colli ver had never dreamed of such 
resistance. It began to dawn upon him that 
his antagonist was of a different kind from 
any he had ever met in the lumber camp. 

With a yell of rage, he dashed headlong 
toward Dave, intending to end the contest by 
one supreme effort. 

Pete managed to plant an elbow under the 
stout boy’s chin, forcing his head back. Then, 
putting forth all the power of his muscular 
body, he followed up the advantage. 

A groan came from the Ramblers as they 
saw Dave yielding. 

“ Ye’ve got ’im a-goin’ sure, Pete,” yelled 
Smull, whose feelings had been considerably 
damaged by his tumble. 

“ Don’t crowd ’em ! ” again warned Buck 
James, his flabby face shining with pleasure. 
“ I didn’t expect to see no sich a go as this ’n.” 

“ Get out ! Fatty only needs nuff room ter 
fall in,” piped Jimmy of Sellade, hilariously. 
“ Oh ! ” 


23 * 


The Rambler Club’s 


By a dexterous twist, Dave had wriggled 
out of danger again, and dropped on all fours, 
with his opponent clinging to his back. 

Pete Colliver, with disheveled hair wildly 
tossing in the breeze, paused, puffing heavily. 
A curious, dumfounded look, which all the 
rough shouts of encouragement flung toward 
him failed to remove, had settled over his 
brick-red face. 

“ Pete’s lost his nerve,” cried Jack. 

“ He couldn’t throw you in a hundred 
years,” shouted Tim, gleefully. 

Dave unexpectedly fell flat on his face, his 
surprised opponent sprawling across his pros- 
trate form. Then, with a swift movement of 
tremendous power, Dave began turning over, 
and a roar came from the boys when they saw 
Pete’s shoulder rising high in the air. 

The latter wildly attempted to loosen his 
hold — and succeeded. But the impetus of 
Dave Brandon’s push kept him rolling over, 
and, like a flash, the stout boy had turned 
and pounced upon him. 

The astounded Pete, frantically struggling 
to arise, found himself thrown backward with 
a force that fairly took his breath away. He 


Gold Mine 235 

struck the turf sideways, and, by the aid of 
a bush, palled himself over on his stomach. 

“ None o’ that, Colliver ! ” roared Buck 
James. “ Ye ain’t wrestlin’ bushes. Next 
time ye do it I’ll disqualify ye.” 

“ Much you’ve got ter say ’bout it,” puffed 
Pete. 

“ Don’t waste no breath in talkin’, Pete,” 
counseled Jimmy, in worried tones. “ Keep 
yer peepers open ; he’s a-layin’ fur ye.” 

“ An’ I know whar he’ll be layin’ in another 
minute,” snarled Pete, slowly rising. 

Any one less stout-hearted than Dave 
Brandon might have quailed before the fierce 
looks and threatening attitude of the lumber- 
jack. Pete’s eyes blazed with fury. His big 
hands were opening and closing convulsively, 
and his massive chest heaved with physical 
and mental stress. He had counted upon an 
easy victory, and, so far, the advantage was 
all on the other side. 

Only fitful gusts of wind and stamping of 
horses’ hoofs broke the tense silence, as the 
two boys faced each other again. 

Like boxers sparring for openings, they 
circled about, each wary and determined. 


The Rambler Club’s 


236 

Pete’s reputation was at stake, while Dave, 
thoroughly aroused, felt that he, too, must 
prove his mettle. He quickly ducked and 
danced away as Colliver’s arm swung toward 
him. 

“ You’d best take it on the run, feller,” 
fumed Pete. 

He had now thrown aside all caution. 
Spurred on by Tom Smull’s loud yells, he 
hurled himself recklessly toward his cooler 
opponent. 

It was a chance for which Dave had been 
waiting. Taking swift advantage of Pete’s 
awkward lunge, he secured an arm and leg 
hold, jerking him around with a force that 
brought a shout from the excited boys. Even 
Pete Colliver’s muscular shoulders were power- 
less to resist the fierceness of Dave Brandon’s 
counter attack. 

With the veins in his forehead bulging out, 
the Rambler, calling every ounce of strength 
to his aid, bore Pete backward, threw him 
heavily to the ground, and fell across his 
prostrate form. 

Colliver tried in vain to squirm and twist 
away. Slowly, inexorably, his shoulders 


Gold Mine 


2 37 


were forced back to the ground, and while a 
chorus of shouts from the boys swelled into a 
storm of applause, Pete was pinned down 
hard and fast — conquered. 

The abrupt and decisive ending of the con- 
test was viewed by the lumbermen almost in 
silence ; their astonishment seemed too great 
for words. Jimmy, Alf Griffin and Tom 
Smull stood staring blankly, as though they 
were unable to believe that the heretofore 
invincible Pete was lying before their eyes 
vanquished at last, and by a mild-looking 
stout boy. Dismay was written on their 
bronzed faces, but there were gleams of satis- 
faction, however, on some of the others. 

“ Mebbe it won’t stop that yawp o’ hisn,” 
remarked Buck James, complacently. 

“Wal, I swan!” exclaimed Jimmy, vio- 
lently. “ If this hyar ain’t a go ! Bet five 
cents the big un dasn’t try it ag’in.” 

“ Five real cents ! Oh, you reckless boy ! ” 
gurgled Jack. 

Deeply crestfallen, Pete Colliver rose to his 
feet. The violence of his fall had taken all 
the fight out of him for the moment. 

“ I didn’t have a fair chancet,” he snarled. 


238 The Rambler Club’s 

“Jist wait, feller; I ain’t done with ye 
yit.” 

“ Don’t have any hard feelings, Pete.” 
Dave, breathing hard, extended his hand. 
“ Shake I ” 

“ The only tilin’ that’ll git shook is you, fat 
un ; an’ it’ll be afore long, too.” 

Colliver’s face reflected all the angry pas- 
sions which surged within him, and his fists 
were clenched, as he stalked to and fro. 

It was not in Dave’s nature to crow over a 
victory. With a wave of his hand he stilled 
the comments of his enthusiastic friends. 

Pete spoke again : 

“Think nobody won’t have none o’ that 
gold mine but yerselves, do yer?” he 
sneered. 

“ Cut it out, Pete,” stormed Jim Reynolds. 
“ Boys,” he added, turning toward the Ram- 
blers, “ as yer champeen wrastler says,” he 
smiled in a conciliatory fashion — “ we don’t 
want no hard feelin’s.” 

“ That’s a plum sure thing,” agreed Bart 
Reeder. 

“ Now, we’re a-wantin’ to do the squar’ 
thing by ye. If thar’s a gold mine ’bout, 


Gold Mine 


2 39 

’tain’t no more yourn ’n ours — see the 
p’int?” 

“ Of course it ain’t,” growled Alf Griffin. 

“ An’ so, why not be frien’ly-like, an’ jine 
in with us?” Jim spoke persuasively. “ Eh, 
what d’ye say ?” 

“ It’ll save ye a heap o’ trouble, I’m 
a-thinkin’; an’ don’t forgit it,” mumbled Tom 
Smull, ominously, scratching his scratched-up 
face. 

“ Listen to reason, boys,” pleaded Buck 
James. 

“ Well, this is a good one ! ” burst out Jack 
Conroy, hotly. “ Here you fellows have been 
doggin’ us like so many cats, sneakin’ an’ 
spyin’ about our camp — an’ now ! Why, 
thunder, it beats the Dutch — never heard o’ 
such nerve.” 

“ Of course we won’t do it ! ” cried Dick. 

“ Eh?” snarled Tom Smull, with a threat- 
ening gesture. “ Ye’d best not get too chip- 
per, young un.” 

“ If ye don’t ” began Alf Griffin. 

“ See here ! ” A snort from Jim Reynolds 
stopped him. “You fellers are sp’ilin’ the 
hull business.” Then, his voice becoming 


240 


The Rambler Club’s 


pleasant, he went on : “I feel sure the boys’ll 
agree to our plan. Why not stay with us a 
spell, an’ talk it over ? ” 

“ No, Jim ; it wouldn’t be a bit of use,” an- 
swered Bob Somers, quietly. “ We haven’t 
the slightest intention of joining in with any 
one ; so we’ll say good-bye ! ” 

Smull’s eyes were blazing. 

“ Are ye a-goin’ ter be sassed an’ stood off 
by a parcel o’ kids ? ” he demanded. “ Ain’t 
ye man nuff ter say to ’em, 1 See here, you 
young shrimps, ye’ve simply got ter do what 
I tells ye,’ hey ? ” 

“ Easy — easy,” counseled Buck James. 

“ Yes ; quit it,” interposed Dan Woodle. 

“ That’s right — everybody had better quit 
it ! ” Jack Conroy’s voice drowned all others. 
“I can just tell you this: you chaps can’t 
scare us ; an’ you might as well turn about, 
an’ steer your way back to Cap Slater’s lumber 
camp, where you belong.” 

“ Well, I swan ! ” Jimmy stared at the 
speaker in open-mouthed wonder. 

“ Sich talk — bust it ! ” howled Pete, still 
choking with anger. “ I’m ready fur wenge- 
ance, now ; bust it ! Look out ! ” 


Gold Mine 


241 

Turning, he made a sudden spring toward 
Dave Brandon. 

Bob Somers, however, stepped between 
them. 

“ That will do, Pete/’ he said, quietly. 

“ I won’t stan’ no more o’ sich nonsense, 
Colliver,” added Jim Reynolds. “ Git 
back 1 ” 

His huge hand grabbed Pete by the 
shoulder, and the stocky lad was hurled 
aside. 

Bob and his companions seized the op- 
portunity to take their departure, a proceed- 
ing to which Griffin and Smull voiced loud 
objections, while Jim Reynolds called out : 

“ Don’t go ’way riled, boys ; can’t we talk 
over this thing a bit? ” 

“ No ! ” answered Bob, firmly ; “ the last 
word’s been said.” 

Sending a chorus of good-byes over their 
shoulders, they made toward their bronchos. 

The seven quickly mounted, and rode out 
into the open. Quirts cracked, and the riders 
found themselves being carried down a gentle 
slope. 

None drew rein until rise after rise had 


242 The Rambler Club’s 

been passed, and the line of timber left far 
behind. 

“ Well, Dick Travers, what have you to say 
for yourself? ” said Bob Somers, severely, as 
they finally halted. “ Don’t you know you 
took an awful risk in hanging around that 
camp? ” 

“ You mean hanging on to a tree, I guess,” 
grinned Dick. 

“ Tell us all about it.” 

The boys listened attentively to his story. 

“ Of course,” concluded Dick, “ I wasn’t 
going to come away without my gun, and 
didn't dare go back for the longest time. 
Besides,” he confessed, whimsically, “ I forgot 
the number of the tree and couldn’t find it 
till early morning. I got a glimpse of you 
from the woods, and walked right out, like a 
little major.” 

“ Whew ! You took a long chance,” ex- 
claimed Jack. “ It’s a mighty lucky thing 
you didn’t stop a load of buckshot skulkin’ 
’round their camp in spooky hours.” 

“ Or something worse,” added Tom, with a 
shiver. 

“ Anyway it all turned out for the best,” 


Gold Mine 


243 


quoth Bob. “ We know now what we have 
to buck up against. Dave Brandon / 7 he 
added, “ you’re a positive wonder.” 

“ Isn’t he, though ? ” chirped Tim. “ Great 
Scott ! When Pete flopped over on his back 
I could hardly believe it — greatest sight I 
ever saw. Did me a lot of good, I can tell 
you.” 

“ Let me echo that remark,” laughed Sam. 
“ Say, fellows, I got a chance to chin a bit 
with Jimmy ; he told me how those men got 
their horses.” 

“Let’s hear ’bout it; an’ talk fast,” said 
Jack. 

“ Buck James is a horse dealer at Bawdon, 
so they let him in on the thing provided he 
would supply the ponies. Pete and Jimmy 
traveled on foot — took them nearly all night 
— but they managed to reach Wild Oak, 
where they encountered Slater’s men. And 
do you know ” 

“ What ? ” asked Tim, impatiently. 

“ They actually made Buck James pony up 
with a pair of ponies.” 

“ Whew ! There’s nerve for you,” com- 
mented Tim. 


244 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Yes ; and Jimmy was boasting about it to 
beat the band — said that Pete threatened to 
blow the whole thing to people in Rawdon, 
an 7 that scared 'em. They thought every- 
body in town ’ud be tagging at their heels." 

“ Well, I'm glad Pete got taken down a peg 
or two," growled Jack. 

“ Say, Dick, did you find out why they 
brought our packhorse back ? " asked Tom, 
abruptly. 

“ That’s an easy one, son ; the jacks knew 
well enough that we had to have grub — 
thought perhaps we might get discouraged 
and skip back, if packy didn’t turn up ; 
see?" 

“ Guess that’s the idea. Shows how much 
they have to depend ’pon following us." 

“ Sure thing, Tom." 

“ Well, Dick, you and Dave have had a 
lively time, all right," remarked Bob, re- 
flectively. “ Now, we have to think of a way 
to throw those fellows off the track ; it won’t 
be so easy. Smull and Griffin are pretty des- 
perate men. Suppose we do as much travel- 
ing by night as we can, eh ? ’’ 

“ Bully idea," agreed Dick. “ Caesar, but 


Gold Mine 


2 45 

this is an exciting life. Don’t let’s waste a 
minute.” 

The seven looked carefully around ; but 
the country appeared absolutely deserted. 
There were many ridges and clumps of trees, 
however, which could easily have concealed 
their trackers. 

By noon the gray expanse of cloud was 
rapidly sweeping away, and shafts of sunlight 
blazed through the openings. The boys took 
but little time to eat, pushing rapidly on 
toward the hills, and at sundown the rolling 
swells of the valley had been crossed and 
they were encamped in the midst of a wild- 
looking range. 

A small fire was built in the shadow of an 
enormous boulder, and when dusk fell the 
glowing embers were stamped out. The 
group sat about in utter darkness, listening 
to the dismal howls of a pack of coyotes 
and the mysterious sounds from a near-by 
wood, strangely clear in the silence of the 
night. 

With Bob Somers on guard, the others finally 
turned in and slept until the moon was rising 
above the hills. Then, aroused, they quickly 


246 The Rambler Club’s 

saddled their ponies and vaulted upon their 
backs. 

A clear, silvery radiance enveloped the 
landscape, but shadows in ravines were deep 
and gloomy. They soon reached a dreary, 
marshy stretch lying between two hills. Tall, 
tangled grasses and stagnant pools sent their 
rank odor floating over the air, while the 
clear, brilliant moon was mirrored in sharp, 
metallic dashes upon ooze and water. As 
they passed through, a long-legged water-bird 
rose before them with a startled cry. 

On hard ground again, the travelers allowed 
the bronchos to choose their own pace. 

“ Hold up, thar ! ” 

This startling command fell upon the boys’ 
ears with a sharpness that fairly took their 
breath away. One moment they seemed to 
be absolutely alone, and the next found them- 
selves facing two horsemen who had dashed 
from a thicket close by. 

The summons came again : 

“ Hold up, thar 1 ” 


CHAPTER XIX 


BOB LOSES 

The astounded Ramblers gazed in conster- 
nation at Tom Smull and Alf Griffin. They 
saw the lumbermen’s revolvers flashing in the 
moonlight, and a single glance convinced 
them that the two were in deadly earnest. 

A touch of Tom Smull’s quirt sent his pony 
almost into that of Bob Somers’, but he jerked 
the animal around in time. 

“ I reckon ye won’t be so confounded sassy, 
now, pard ! ” he exclaimed, in a voice ringing 
with triumph. 

Bob Somers looked into the barrel of a 
revolver held close to his head, while Alf 
Griffin, waving a huge weapon from side to 
side, had the rest of the crowd covered. 

“ Well, what do you want, Tom Smull?” 
asked Bob, as soon as his astonishment allowed 
him to speak. 

“ Now, that ’ere language sounds jist a 
leetle bit better, pard,” exclaimed the lumber- 
247 


The Rambler Club’s 


248 

man, with a gruff laugh. “ Me an’ Griffin has 
went to a precious sight o’ trouble ter git this 
liyar interview. We want ter be frien’s o’ 
yourn.” 

“ Then you might as well show it by point- 
ing that revolver some other way/’ suggested 
Bob. 

14 Where’s the rest o’ your bold, brave gang 
o’ sneakers ? ” demanded Jack Conroy, hotly. 
“ Throw down those shootin’ irons, an’ I’ll bet 
the whole crowd wouldn’t dare face us three 
seconds. An’ ” 

“Thar it goes ag’in ! ” snorted Tom Smull, 
violently. “ Best be a bit keerful, younker. 
If yer never smelt powder smoke a-blowin’ in 
yer face, it may be time fur yer to smell it 
now. But we ain’t a-talkin’ ter you ; our 
business is with the gineral — Somers.” 

“ Well ? ” queried Bob. 

“ I reckon it will be, if yer acts peaceable- 
like. You’ve got a drawin’ showin’ whar 
that streak o’ pay dirt is, an’ me an’ Alf sure 
needs it.” 

“Hand it out, pard I ” came from Griffin. 
“Ye kin jine our crowd, an’ we’ll share 
alike.” 


Gold Mine 


249 

“ Of all the nerve I ever heard about this is 
the biggest ! " stormed Jack. 

“ It won't pay none ter git sassy," warned 
Smull. “ Give me that drawin’, Somers ! " 

“ And if I don't ? " asked Bob. 

“ 'Twon’t make a particle o' difference ; 
we'll hev it all the same." 

“ Well, in that case, suppose you come and 
take it ! " 

The lumbermen listened to these words in 
amazement. Tom Smull stared wondering] y 
at Bob. 

“ Wal, if this don't beat all creation ! " he 
cried. “ I s'picion as how ye’ll find out it 
don’t pay none ter run ag’in Tom Smull." 
The lumberman, still keeping his weapon 
leveled, roughly seized the bridle of Bob’s 
pony. “ Come now," he added, scowling 
fiercely, “ no more foolin' ! " 

A few seconds of silence followed this com- 
mand. Highly indignant and alarmed, the 
boys gazed intently toward the two principals 
facing each other in the moonlight. If the 
lumberjacks secured possession of the map it 
might give them such an advantage as to 
threaten the success of their expedition. And 


250 


The Rambler Club’s 


it was galling to think of their very first at- 
tempt to outwit the trailers meeting with com- 
plete defeat. 

Breathlessly, they watched Bob Somers. 
His arm flashed up so swiftly that their eyes 
could scarcely follow its movement. 

Tom Smull’s pistol hand received the full 
force of the blow. Then a quirt came down 
with stinging force upon the broncho's back, 
and the bridle was torn so suddenly from the 
lumberman's grasp as to almost throw him to 
the ground. 

Bob Somers, encouraged by the cries of his 
excited chums, put spurs to his horse and gal- 
loped recklessly down the valley, while Tom 
Smull, with a yell of rage, started off in hot 
pursuit. 

“ Stop — stop ! ” he bawled. 

A grim, determined expression on Bob 
Somers' face indicated clearly that he had no 
intention of obeying this command. Lying 
almost flat upon his pony's back, he urged him 
ahead until trees and bushes were whirling by 
with bewildering rapidity. 

But fast as his pony tore, Tom Smull's went 
faster ; and he realized that it was only a 


Gold Mine 


251 

question of a short time when he would be 
overtaken — and then ? 

“ There’s going to be one of the liveliest 
musses Tom Smull was ever mixed up in,” 
murmured Bob Somers, grimly. 

“ Stop — yer can’t git away I ” 

Over swells, down the sides of little gullies, 
and across level stretches, the mad, headlong 
race continued, the shrill cry of a skulking 
coyote close at hand alone rising above the 
clatter of hoofs. 

“ I’ve got yer, pard ! ” 

Bob Somers was on the point of wheeling 
his pony about, in order to face his deter- 
mined pursuer, when the animal’s fore legs 
suddenly plunged into a morass. It had 
been completely concealed by densely matted 
grasses and other vegetation. 

As the snorting pony sank up to his knees, 
a stream of liquid mud shot into the air. 
Bob Somers found himself jarred from the 
saddle and catapulted over the animal’s head. 
He landed at full length, and lay almost 
stunned amidst the grass and ooze. 

Tom Smull had, perhaps, never been more 
astonished in his life. By the narrowest mar- 


252 


The Rambler Club’s 


gin, he succeeded in pulling his own horse up 
in time. Then, with a whoop of triumph, he 
swung himself from the saddle. 

“ Knew I’d git ye, pard ! ” he yelled. 

As Bob endeavored to rise from the soft, 
yielding surface which had so fortunately 
saved him from injury, he caught a glimpse of 
a dark form struggling through mud and 
vegetation toward him. 

He turned and threshed about, fighting 
hard to free his legs from the entangling 
rushes. 

“ No yer don’t ! ” jeered Tom Smull. 

A violent shove sent Bob on his back, and, 
as his eyes gazed into the lumberjack’s trium- 
phant face, he also saw the barrel of a revolver 
again poked toward him. 

“ Mebbe that won’t keep yer quiet fur a 
spell I ” grinned Tom. “ ’Tain’t alius healthy 
ter smell powder smoke, young un.” 

He tore Bob’s khaki jacket roughly open, 
and in another instant his big hand was feel- 
ing for the inside pocket. 

The precious map was there. 

Bob Somers groaned inwardly. He heard 
a gruff exclamation of joy. The document, 


Gold Mine 


253 

held in Tom SmulTs hand, was shining in 
the soft, greenish moonlight. 

When the lumberjack’s eyes rested upon the 
crude lines, his exultation was so great that 
he seemed to entirely forget his victim. 

“ Ha, ha I The identical thing ! It ’ud 
sarve ye jist right, pard, if I handed yer a 
clip or two fur all the trouble ye give me ; 
but thar ain’t nuthin’ mean ’bout me.” 

The lumberman was of an immensely strong 
and wiry build, and the idea of a boy actu- 
ally having the courage to attack him never 
entered his mind. Bob, however, working 
quietly, had succeeded in getting his legs loose, 
and, while the other was still gloating over 
his victory, rose to a standing position. Tom 
Smull, unprepared for such sudden action, re- 
ceived a powerful blow which struck the 
revolver from his hand. Then, before a howl 
of pain had ceased, he found himself gripped 
by a pair of muscular arms and forced over 
backward. 

The astounded lumberman struggled fiercely 
to regain his balance, but the combination of 
slippery surface and unpreparedness was too 
much to successfully combat. A few brief in- 


2 54 


The Rambler Club’s 


stants of desperate struggle ; a wild threshing 
about among the reeds and ooze ; a splashing 
of water ; the peculiar, sucking sound of grip- 
ping mud, as boots were drawn from it — 
then : 

Tom Smull, panting for breath, toppled sud- 
denly over, and brought up with a resound- 
ing squash where the mire was deepest. 

The object of the battle, wafted away by the 
breeze, had settled down beneath a huge tree 
a few yards beyond the edge of the marsh. 

“ I’ll pay ye fur this I ” howled the lumber- 
jack, furiously. 

His big hand gripped Bob Somers’ leg. 

But the boy had seen and heard something 
which instilled into him new courage and de- 
termination — a sound of beating hoofs and the 
sight of a line of horsemen sweeping along at 
reckless speed. 

Tom Smull realized that quick action was 
necessary. He struggled furiously, both to 
retain his hold upon Bob and extricate him- 
self, only to fail completely. Bob tore his leg 
loose, while, at every move, Smull plunged 
more deeply into the slimy mud and plastered 
it more thickly upon him. 


Gold Mine 


255 


Just as Bob Somers, feeling that victory 
had been won, voiced a loud warning to his 
friends to look out for the marsh, a startling 
interruption took place. 

A limb of the tree close by began to shake 
and creak — and it was not the breeze that 
caused it. A flutter of dead leaves and twigs 
floated mournfully downward, while two bril- 
liant spots glowed among the dark branches. 
Then a low, ominous growl tilled the boy’s 
heart with dismay. 

Smull was oblivious to all this ; he had 
ears for nothing, and eyes only for the scrap 
of paper beneath the tree. Relieved momen- 
tarily from the hindrance which Bob had 
caused to his movements, he staggered and 
plunged toward dry ground. 

The limb creaked again. A long, savage 
snarl rose harshly upon the still night air. 

“ A painter ! ” cried Tom Smull. His voice 
was hoarse with sudden terror. “ It’s a 
painter I The two of us is goners 1 ” 


” CHAPTER XX 


GOLD CREEK 

Madly the lumberman hurled himself 
forward, seized the map, and turned in the 
direction of his broncho, while, but an instant 
afterward, a long, tawny body sprang from 
the limb and landed on the edge of the 
marsh. 

All thoughts of Wanatoma’s drawing van- 
ished from Bob Somers’ mind, as he stood 
with but a few yards between him and a pan- 
ther. The moonlight revealed the animal’s 
ears thrown far back ; his tail was lashing 
fiercely ; he seemed on the point of leaping 
again. 

“ Great Scott ! ” breathed Bob. 

The boy’s hand flew to his holster. Back- 
ing slowly away, he kept his revolver leveled 
at the animal’s head ; his hand was steady, 
though his heart thumped hard. It was a 
moment of great suspense. Almost mechan- 
ically, he saw the riders looming up clearly 
in the moonlight. 


256 


Gold Mine 


257 

“ Watch yourself, Bob 1 We’ll get him ! ” 
came encouragingly from Dick Travers’ lips. 

The loud yells of the boys and clatter of 
hoofs evidently caused the animal to decide 
that his enemies were too many to contend 
against. Still growling and snarling, he 
whisked about, took several great leaps, and, 
skirting along by the marsh, disappeared 
behind a clump of trees. 

With a sigh of great relief, Bob Somers 
faced his excited friends. 

“Hurt? — No; not a bit of it, fellows; but 
the map’s gone — and all the fault of that 
wretched varmint ! ” 

“ The map gone ! ” 

These words, repeated by several voices, 
sounded in accents of the deepest gloom. 

“ Quick — don’t lose an instant ! ” cried Bob. 
“ You may be able to overtake him, and get 
it back. Help me get my bronc out of that 
awful mess, Dick.” 

Fired with a determined resolve, five boys 
immediately cracked their quirts, and the 
bronchos were in motion again, pounding 
swiftly off in the direction taken by Smull 
and Griffin. 


The Rambler Club’s 


258 

Bob and Dick managed to capture the 
former's badly-frightened animal just as it 
was floundering out of the mire, and pres- 
ently galloped, side by side, after the now 
faint and shadowy forms of the other riders. 

Occasional sharp, yelping cries echoed dis- 
mally between the hills, and within a short 
time they caught a glimpse of a pack of 
coyotes, an undulating line of gray sweeping 
across the narrow valley. A bit further 
along, the boys came upon Dave, in charge of 
the packhorses. 

“ I couldn’t keep up the pace with these 
beasts,” he explained. 

“ Think the fellows had any chance ? ” 
asked Bob, eagerly. 

Dave shook his head. 

“ I’m afraid not,” he answered. “ They 
had too good a start. Gracious, Bob, you’re 
in a pretty mess ! ” 

“ Tom Smull is in a worse,” said Bob, 
grimly. “ How did you chaps manage to 
break away from Griffin ? ” 

“Sam suddenly gave a terrible yell, hung 
over the side of his pony like a Mexican 
vaquero about to pick a handkerchief off the 


Gold Mine 


259 

ground, and started suddenly. The rest of 
us — well — we felt sure Griffin wouldn’t shoot 
— took our chances, anyway, and bolted after 
him.” 

“ Bully for you! Say, it certainly makes 
me sick to think of that panther mixing in 
just at the wrong time.” 

“ The worst kind of luck,” groaned Dick. 
“ What’s to be done ? ” 

“ Make a great rush for the mine, and beat 
those fellows out. It’s going to be a free-for- 
all race now.” 

“ That’s right,” agreed Dick. “My, oh, 
my, but I do feel wild.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments, 
straining their ears to catch any sounds of the 
pursuit. 

“ The timbermen have the map, an’ they’ll 
keep it forever an’ two days,” grumbled Dick. 
“ Hello ! Here come the boys ! ” 

The five, after an interval which seemed 
very long, cantered up, their ponies breathing 
hard and flecked with foam. 

“ The scamps made a clean get-away,” 
growled Jack. 

“ Bet the whole jig is up,” wailed Tom. 


26 o 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Oh, I rather guess not,” snorted Tim 
Lovell. “ There’ll be some lively doin’s 
before this crowd gives up. 

This sentiment met with general approval. 

As the bronchos had been pushed pretty 
hard, the boys decided to camp at the first 
suitable place. 

“ This is a great valley, full o’ coyotes, play- 
ful panthers, an’ desperate timbermen,” re- 
marked Jack, disgustedly. “ Wonder what’s 
cornin’ next.” 

“ Plenty ! ” grunted Tim. 

In a gash in the hills they came to a halt, 
built a fire against a rocky wall as a protec- 
tion, and all but Tim Lovell turned in. 

And each sentinel, in his turn, heard 
enough to make him keep his senses keenly 
alert. Several times the sound of skurrying 
feet rose with unpleasant distinctness, causing 
the lonely sentinel to picture in his mind the 
gray forms skulking close by. 

In the early morning Bob made a drawing 
of the map, and, as all had studied it carefully, 
no detail was forgotten. Immediately after 
breakfast they were off, following a deep gully. 

It did not end in a pocket, as Jack Conroy 


Gold Mine 


261 

gloomily predicted, but opened out, forming 
ail amphitheatre between wild, barren hills. 
Keeping to the north as closely as the con- 
figuration of the land would allow, the party 
struggled on, now in the midst of boulders, 
then halted by the undergrowth in some 
woods so dense that the sunlight scarcely 
filtered in. 

But as each mile seemed to fall slowly and 
grudgingly behind them, they could see from 
points of vantage a great bluish mass rising 
higher, its outlines cutting more sharply 
against the sky. A towering summit of a 
peculiar blunt shape proved beyond doubt 
that this was their goal. 

At the top of a high ridge they gazed with 
fascinated attention toward the mountain, 
their pulses quickened with excitement. 

Perpetual snow, above pine forests, shone 
with dazzling luster ; a succession of wild- 
looking crags extended off to the right and 
left until the furthest peaks were but faint 
grayish patches. 

“ Mount Wanatoma ! ” said Bob, in solemn 
tones. 

“ Mount Wanatoma ! ” echoed the others. 


262 


The Rambler Club’s 


“Christopher! Let's hurry!" cried Dick, 
nervously. “ See any signs of those lumber- 
jacks, fellows ? " 

Each, taking turns with the powerful field- 
glass, stared in all directions. But nothing 
appeared within the circle. 

“ That doesn’t prove anything," sighed 
Tim. “ You may be sure they’re not far 
away." 

“ Smull and Griffin acted like a pair of 
pirates,” growled Tom. 

“ Pirates are water-birds, Cliffy," suggested 
Sam. 

“ Well, I’ll bet Tom Smull felt like a water- 
bird for a few minutes," retorted the other, 
with a very faint grin. 

“ There’s goin’ to be snow before long," 
remarked Tim, “an’ ’’ 

“ It would mean good-bye to gettin’ back 
for six months," supplied Jack. “ Snowed 
up in the mountains; I suppose that’s the 
next thing’ll happen, Timmy." 

They stopped only a few minutes for lunch. 
Full of determination to win the race against 
all odds, the boys forgot fatigue, pushing their 
hardy little bronchos to the utmost limit. 


Gold Mine 


263 

When night came, after the hardest day in 
the saddle they had ever experienced, it found 
them encamped in the foot-hills, with Mount 
Wanatoma looming majestically above them. 
Its apparent nearness was deceptive, however, 
and all realized that many miles of rough, 
dangerous country had still to be crossed. 

A cold wind was sweeping down from the 
heights, and from somewhere in the darkness 
came the sullen murmur of a rushing torrent. 
Sleep seemed banished from the thoughts of 
all save Dave. After supper, they paced 
restlessly to and fro before a fire built in a 
deep hollow, their shadowy forms touched 
now and again by the ruddy glow. None 
cared to venture far away, for, as on the night 
before, they realized that the blackness hid 
many a snarling foe. 

At an early hour next morning the seven 
were again in the saddle, traveling through 
fields of waving yellow bunch grass. They 
followed an almost straight course to a point 
where the hills were sharply cleft, forming a 
wide, deep gorge. Through the center trick- 
led a tiny stream bordered with scrubby 
willows. The rough, scarred hills on either 


264 The Rambler Club’s 

hand ended abruptly, and, beyond, a series of 
ridges, some thickly covered with pine, others 
of bald, reddish rock, rolled off in crests, rising 
higher and higher until they joined the 
stupendous mass of Mount Wanatoma. 

The vastness of nature impressed the boys 
strangely. 

“ Honest, it makes me feel like a little 
crawling ant,” remarked Tim, with a deep 
breath. 

“ An’ you look the part, all right, Timmy- 
Tim,” grinned Jack. “ An’ Tommy I Why, 
he’s ’most disappeared.” 

“ Oh, you get out, Jacky. There’s not such 
an awful lot of you, either,” retorted Tom, 
stiffly. “ Besides,” he added, “ I’m a half 
inch taller’n I was in Wyoming ; honest, I 
am.” 

“ Goodness gracious ! Look at the giant ! ” 
chirped Jack. “ Measure yourself every day, 
I s’pose ? ” 

“ By the time we reach the gold mine, he’ll 
be a six-footer,” laughed Tim. 

“ That’s all right; I may be looking down 
on you some day, smarty,” snorted Tom. 

To the north ! was the slogan ; yet they were 


Gold Mine 


265 

as often compelled to struggle east or west, 
pushed aside by huge barriers of rock or 
impenetrable forests. 

About one o’clock the boys dismounted 
near the mouth of a gloomy canyon. On the 
frowning slopes of “ Mount Wanatoma ” they 
saw masses of dark, rich pines, gigantic piles 
of rock, and precipices with sheer drops of 
hundreds of feet. And there was a cascade, 
too ; a thin dash of white tumbling from a 
dizzy ledge, growing broader as it fell, until, 
at the bottom, it spread out sharply into a fan- 
shaped form, glittering in the sunlight. 

A torrent roared its way through the canyon, 
slashing past grim, gray rocks, a churning 
mixture of green and white, carrying on its 
battling surface occasional branches and 
bright-colored autumn leaves. 

Close to the water’s edge, the boys collected 
a quantity of fuel and started a fire. Dick 
and Tim officiated as cooks, and soon had 
ready a generous supply of bacon, flapjacks 
and coffee. 

While they were busily engaged in dispos- 
ing of the last morsels, Dick jumped abruptly 
to his feet. 


266 The Rambler Club’s 

“ By the great liorn spoon — look I ” he 
yelled. 

The eyes of the startled boys followed the 
direction indicated by his outstretched arm. 

Uttering cries of dismay, they jumped to 
their feet. 

Far up on the mountain slope, several mov- 
ing specks could be plainly seen against a 
background of rocks. Small as the objects 
were, they cut out sharply in the form of 
horsemen. 

Bob Somers was the first to break the 
silence. 

“ Great Scott ! What in thunder do you 
think of that?” he gasped. “And so far 
ahead ! ” 

He stared, in turn, at six downcast faces. 

“ I — I don’t — can’t understand it,” quav- 
ered Tom. 

“The lumberjacks are up there; the jig’s 
up, too,” pronounced Jack, dejectedly. 

“ But — but ” — stammered Dick — “ just look 
at the way we’ve traveled. They must be 
birds.” 

“ A straight line is the shortest distance be- 
tween two points; guess those chaps managed 


Gold Mine 267 

to keep closer to it than we have,” came from 
Dave. 

The crowd could not shake off the gloomy 
feelings which beset them. The horsemen 
had disappeared, but they kept staring up at 
the white patch of rocks, half expecting to see 
other riders pass across its surface. 

“ Knew it was goin’ to be a wild goose chase 
by a pack o’ wild geese.” 

“ Oh, is that so, Jacky ? ” cried Tim, hotly. 
“ An’ but for that megaphone voice o’ yours 
you might be chirpin’ a different tale.” 

“ Here — don’t you dare blame it on me ! 
Never spoke ’bout it yourself, I s’pose ? Oh, 
no I Nobody did but me, eh?” 

“ I don’t care what you say, Conroy ; it’s all 
your fault. I told you — everybody did.” 

“ Cut it out ! ” Jack made a threatening 
gesture. “ Cut it out, or you’ll take a tumble, 
an’ a mighty large-sized one ! ” 

“ Quit jawing,” interposed Bob. “I’m sur- 
prised at you fellows. Are we such weak 
dubs as to call ourselves beaten before we even 
begin to climb that mountain ? I rather guess 
not ! ” 

All caught his spirit of enthusiasm. Saddle- 


268 


The Rambler Club’s 


bags were hastily repacked, and within a few 
minutes the bronchos were in motion again. 

The boys were glad enough that they did 
not have to make the passage of the canyon. 
Led by Bob, they strung out over a flat strip 
by the edge of the torrent, soon finding a 
place to ford. 

Plunging in, the bronchos snorted, as icy 
water gripped their legs and bodies ; a fiercely 
surging flood splashed over stirrup-leather 
and boots. The Ramblers could scarcely 
control their sturdy little animals, as they 
slowly fought their way across. 

Two hours later, after a hard climb, the 
seven were sprawling in the midst of sage 
brush on the slopes of “ Mount Wanatoma,” 
with a stiff southeast wind howling around 
them. White clouds which scurried swiftly 
through the blue often hid the snow-clad 
summit. 

“ Some weather soon,” predicted Dave. 

“ Squalls, I’m thinking” muttered Jack, 
savagely. 

From their elevated position they saw a 
vast area of hills, gorges and forests, all 
finally lost in a gray, misty line which met 


Gold Mine 


269 

the sky. The torrent swept its crooked 
course to the eastward ; waving fields of bunch 
grass shone with a golden luster, and forests 
of pine were sharply edged with light. The 
sun was already creeping near the rim of the 
western hills. 

The boys jumped into the saddle again, but 
before a couple of miles had been covered 
found themselves facing a disheartening fact 
— the poor jaded bronchos could go no 
further. 

“Napoleon’s crossing of the Alps was 
nothing like this,” quoth Bob, as he swung 
himself to the ground. 

“ Dave’ll now have a bit o’ history to write 
for his journal,” sighed Tim — “ The Ramblers 
crossing Mount Wanatoma.” 

“ And just to think I We’re stuck here for 
the night,” growled Dick, with a glance at the 
tired bronchos. “ Those poor little beasts 
deserve a real medal,” he added. “ They 
tried hard enough.” 

“ We’ll have one made from the very first 
gold we strike,” remarked Jack, sarcastically, 
disregarding Tim’s angry glance. 

Disconsolately, they hunted about for a 


270 


The Rambler Club’s 


camping site, and found one near by. A fire 
was soon built, and supper cooked. 

Twilight, and then night seemed to close 
down upon them with astonishing swiftness. 
Not a star peeped forth. A blustery wind 
moaned between the trees, carrying with it a 
suggestion of winter gales. 

“ Well be snowed up,” Jack again pre- 
dicted, gloomily. 

“ An* I don't care if we are,” snapped Tim. 

“ S’pose if it blizzards it'll be all my fault, 
too,” mumbled Jack. 

The night seemed long and dismal. Al- 
most benumbed with cold, the early dawn 
found them astir again, and the journey was 
resumed with all possible speed. 

Their voices held an eager note which told 
of excitement but partially repressed. Before 
the sun set again they would know their fate. 

For hours they rode steadily, skirting 
around the mountainside, forced higher and 
higher up the slopes by innumerable ob- 
stacles. Sometimes they crossed narrow 
ledges where a single misstep would have 
meant a frightful plunge down rough, jagged 
precipices. 


Gold Mine 


271 

44 Humph ! Here's where we seem stumped 
at last," remarked Jack, as the bronchos 
emerged from a belt of timber. 

Just ahead, a reddish pinnacle of rock, 
almost as straight as a cathedral tower, and 
rising for hundreds of feet, presented a 
strangely impressive spectacle. 

Bob Somers looked dubiously at the slope 
which slanted sharply from its base. 

“ A risky job getting around, fellows." 

“A pippin," said Dick, with a deep breath. 

“ Well, we can do it," asserted Tim. 
44 Come ahead." 

The boys scarcely dared to look at the 
depths below when the sure-footed little 
bronchos began cautiously treading the 
steeply-inclined surface, sometimes sending 
small landslides sweeping down the slope. 
All uttered sighs of relief when they again 
reached safer ground. 

About mid-afternoon Bob raised his hand. 

44 Listen, fellows ! " 

The boys pulled rein in the midst of a deep 
pine forest. 

44 Do you hear anything? " 

44 Runnin’ water?" queried Jack. 


272 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Yes ! Do you know what I think ? ” 
Bob paused. “ Wanatoma said we’d run 
across a stream on the opposite side of the 
mountain ” 

“ Sure as shootin’, that must be it,” cried 
Tim, eagerly. 

“ And told us it flowed directly toward the 
gold field,” chimed in Sam Randall, his face 
aglow with excitement. 

“ Now, according to my reckoning, this is 
just about the place where we ought to find 
it. That stream over there is certainly Gold 
Creek ; so we have only to follow its course 
down the mountain to locate our mine. 
But ” 

“ Well? ” questioned Tom. 

“ Those lumberjacks are ahead of us in the 
game. Big Jim is smart enough to under- 
stand the map. The word ‘ stream ’ on that 
line ought to show him the right place.” 

“ And that awful big X ’ud simply screech 
it into his head,” said Jack. 

“ I ’most hate to go on,” said Tim, looking 
fiercely at Conroy, as he always did when 
anything disturbed him. 

“ Oh, my ! I only hope they lost them- 


Gold Mine 273 

selves somewhere,” said Tom. “ So let’s 
hurry, Bob. I can hardly wait.” 

“ Dive ahead for Gold Creek before worry 
stops our Tom from growin’,” quoth Jack, 
with a strong effort to appear easy and un- 
concerned. 

The bronchos’ hoofs began kicking up the 
pine-needles and cones again. The sunlight 
cut curious streaks in the dim recesses of the 
gloomy woods, spotting trunks and boughs 
with its brilliant radiance. 

As the Ramblers made their way in and 
out among the trees, a musical tinkle of run- 
ning water came more clearly to their ears. 

“I see it! I see it!” cried Tim, raising 
himself in his stirrups, and pointing ex- 
citedly. 

A cool, silvery streak was showing between 
the trees. 

“ The thread that should have led us to 
fame and fortune,” mused Dave Brandon. 

“ Gold Creek, fellows ! ” 

Dick Travers was the first to reach the edge 
of the swiftly-running stream. The boys 
watched in silence the clear water tumbling 
down the steep descent, dashing briskly 


274 The Rambler Club’s 

against rocks and snags, its never-ceasing roar 
rising high above the pulsating murmur of 
the pines. 

Nervous and excited, with grim-set expres- 
sions, they put their bronchos in motion again, 
following the course of the stream as closely 
as dense vegetation would permit. 

Broad shafts of light soon penetrated the 
woods, and before long only scattered groups 
of trees lay beyond. 

Not a word was spoken as the ponies walked 
around the last of these and came to a halt on 
a knoll which commanded a clear view of the 
far-reaching slopes below. 

One glance was enough. 

A number of men, widely scattered, were 
seen digging with pick and shovel. 

“ Beaten ! ” cried Dick Travers, in a despair- 
ing voice. t 


CHAPTER XXI 


ALONG THE CREEK 

The lumberjacks had taken possession of 
land which the boys considered as rightfully 
belonging to them. Disappointment, chagrin, 
and a whirlwind of strange feelings surged 
through their beings. They had matched 
uncertainty with hopefulness, and the realiza- 
tion that defeat had actually come was a 
stunning blow. 

For some moments Bob and his companions 
sat almost motionless in their saddles. 

“ It’s all up I ” groaned Tom Clifton. 

“ We’ve traveled a long way for this,” 
wailed Dick, with a choking sensation in his 
throat. 

“ Did you ever hear of such awful luck ? ” 
growled Tim, directing a look of intense anger 
and scorn toward Jack Conroy. 

“ I wonder — I wonder if they’ve found any 
trace of gold,” murmured Sam, in a tone of 
the deepest dejection. “ Who are those fellows 
on the nearest ridge ? ” 

275 


The Rambler Club’s 


276 

“ Look like Reynolds and Woodle to me,” 
answered Dave, with a sigh. “ There’s Pete, 
away down at the bottom ; see him ? — Just a 
little square dot.” 

“ Christopher ! I don’t think we ought to 
stand for this ! ” cried Jack Conroy, hotly, 
shaking his fist in the air. “ Haven’t we 
enough spunk to ” 

“ The odds are against us, Jack,” put in 
Bob, quietly. 

- “ Nothin’ doin’,” said Tim. 

“ I don’t know about that ! ” fumed Dick. 
His voice trembled with indignation. “ It 
makes me so wild I can’t even think straight. 
Come on, fellows ! ” 

A long, undulating slope of treacherous soil 
stretched downward. The bronchos slipped 
and slid along it, and, occasionally, the boys 
had to dismount and lead the way on foot, or 
prospect around to find some reasonably safe 
route. It was, therefore, a long time before 
they came abreast of the men. 

The rushing torrent at this point was too 
dangerous to ford, so they kept steadily on, 
paying no attention to a number of loud 
salutations. 



“ YE CAN’T STAKE OUT ANY CLAIMS HERE 



Gold Mine 


2 77 

Hails from several figures below soon fol- 
lowed, sounding astonishingly loud and 
distinct, and among them Pete Colliver’s voice 
was easily recognizable. As the seven caught 
it, the scowls on their faces deepened. 

The stream swept around in a great snake- 
like curve, cutting its way between two 
sharply gashed ridges. Fifteen minutes of 
careful riding brought the boys near the 
pebble-covered bottom of one of these minia- 
ture gorges. 

Upon the opposite bank, Smull, Griffin, 
Pete Colliver and Jimmy stood lined up, 
grinning broadly, while the two men who 
had been working on the slope were slipping 
and scrambling down the rocks and turf 
toward them. 

“ Wal, wal, if hyar they ain’t, at last!” 
laughed Pete, boisterously. “ Didn’t git 
losted, arter all, hey?” 

“Ye can’t stake out any claims here, 
pards,” said Tom Smull, “ but if yer a-lookin’ 
fur jobs as laborers mebbe we kin perwide 
’em.” 

“Ha, ha!” roared Pete. “ Feelin’ kinder 
sore, eh ? Didn’t wanter go in on eq’al 


The Rambler Club’s 


278 

shares ! Wal, bust it, there ain’t a-goin’ ter 
be no eq’al shares ! Ha, ha ! ” 

“Don’t I feel sorry fur ’em ! ” snickered 
Jimmy of Sellade. 

“ If you uns ain’t too all-fired proud ter 
throw ’round a pick an’ shovel fur a rough 
crowd like us, come acrost an’ begin,” sug- 
gested Tom, his features screwed up into an 
extraordinary smirk. 

A fiery spot in Dick Travers’ nature was 
touched. 

“ You’re a lot of scoundrels ! ” he cried, 
shaking his fist. “ You haven’t a bit of right 
to that claim, and if there’s any law in 
the country you won’t be squatting on it 
long.” 

“ Put us off, pard,” jeered Alf Griffin. 

“ See here, Jim Reynolds ! ” exclaimed Bob, 
as the big lumberman and Woodle, panting 
from their exertions, joined the others, “ did 
you order Tom Smull and Griffin to hold us 
up?” 

“ Nary a bit on’t,” answered Jim, earnestly. 
“ Didn’t know whar they’d gone, or nothing 
till they gits back an’ shoves the drawin’ 
under me nose.” 


Gold Mine 


279 

“ Then you thought it was all right for 
them to do it, eli ? ” 

Jim scratched his head. 

“ ’Tain’t nateral ter expect a man ter give 
up a chancet like that, is it? If them fellers 
is still o’ a mind, ye kin come in with us.” 

“ Wal, I ruther guess not I ” howled Tom 
Smull, fiercely, beginning to pace to and fro. 
“ Nix on that.” 

The bantering expression left his face. He 
glanced toward Alf Griffin, and the swift 
interchange of looks between the two told of 
a determined resolve to keep the Ramblers 
out. 

“ An’ none o’ ye don’t darst to cross the 
crick,” came from Pete, as he stalked belliger- 
ently to the edge of the bank. 

“ Get out, grouchy ! ” scoffed Jack. “ Let’s 
call his bluff, fellows, an’ get over the splash.” 

“ Come ahead ! ” cried Dick, excitedly. 

“ Look hyar ! ” Smull’s warlike tone 
matched his scowling visage. “ Mebbe you 
fellers is a-sp’ilin’ fur trouble, hey? My 
adwice is: don’t start nuthin’, but git back 
ter that lumber camp whar ye belong.” 

“ Ho, ho ! ” laughed Jimmy. 


280 The Rambler Club’s 

“ And ye kin ask Cap Slater fur our old 
jobs.” 

“ ’Tain’t right ter rile the lads,” protested 
Woodle, earnestly. “ Quit it, Tom Smull.” 

“ I reckon it ain’t you as is runnin’ me 
tongue,” retorted Smull. “ But fur me an’ 
Griffin, mebbe we uns wouldn’t never hev 
made this strike o’ pay dirt.” 

A strike of pay dirt ! 

Then Wanatoma’s gold mine was a reality — 
an actual, tangible thing. Bob Somers’ eyes 
ran rapidly over the mountain slope on the 
opposite side of the torrent. 

He saw huge areas of rocks and turf, 
spotted with scrubby trees and patched with 
weeds and grass. Here and there grew 
prickly pear trees, their broad, spiked leaves 
grayed by yellow dust. Above were the pine 
forests, and masses of rocks forming great cliffs 
and precipices, and rising to a stupendous 
height the crown of perpetual snow. At the 
base, some distance off, were evidences of 
ancient landslides — gigantic piles of earth 
and rocks, with crumbling tree trunks pro- 
truding from the mass. 

Bob Somers’ thoughts were abruptly swung 


Gold Mine 281 

into another channel by a war of words 
between Pete Colliver and Conroy. 

“ What ! You dare me to come over, eh ? ” 

“ I say ye dasn’t ! ” 

“ Well, by gum, Wengeance Cauliflower, 
you an’ a gatling gun together couldn’t keep 
me back.” 

“ Jack — I say, Jack,” interposed Bob 
Somers, hastily, “ hold on ; no use in stirring 
up trouble.” 

The only answer was a sharp crack of Con- 
roy’s quirt. 

The sudden leap of his broncho and a loud 
splash of water set all the other animals 
prancing about in the narrow gorge. Jack’s 
trusty little steed snorted, as the powerful cur- 
rent bore him along ; flying spray soused high 
above the rider’s boots. But Jack, intent 
upon showing his courage, steered straight 
toward a deep cut in the opposite bank. 

Fearing that the impetuous lad might in- 
volve the crowd in a disturbance of tremen- 
dous proportions, Bob Somers also plunged 
his broncho into the stream. Then, one by 
one, the others followed. 

The lumberjacks stood in silence, watching 


282 


The Rambler Club’s 


the struggle between the riders and the seeth- 
ing flood. Presently Jack Conroy’s dripping 
horse scrambled ashore. 

With a yell of defiance, the lad rode through 
the cleft, soon finding a place where he was 
able to ascend. 

“ Well, here I am, Wengeance ! ” laughed 
Jack, making directly toward Pete Colliver. 

Pete took a step forward, and there was a 
curious look in his eyes, as though some re- 
solve he had made afforded him immense satis- 
faction. 

“ I see ye, big un ! ” 

Smack ! Smack ! His open palm struck 
the sorrel on the flank with terrific force. 

The broncho gave a great bound, almost 
tossing Jack over his head. 

Highly indignant, the boy strove desper- 
ately to regain control of the animal, while 
peals of uproarious laughter came from several 
of the lumberjacks. 

Boys and men, too occupied to have eyes 
for anything beyond their immediate sur- 
roundings, failed to observe a horseman 
emerge from the timber above and stare ear- 
nestly toward them. 


Gold Mine 


283 

As Jack Conroy, fuming with anger, at last 
managed to drop from the saddle and rushed 
toward Pete, Bob Somers whirled his broncho 
around and rode between them. 

“ Hold on, Jack,” he pleaded, earnestly. 
“ Stop I Grab him, Dave I ” 

A hand reached up and gripped his arm. 
Bob turned quickly, to get a nearer view than 
he liked of Tom SmulTs features. 

As he voiced an emphatic protest, fingers 
were closed tighter about his wrist. Then 
came a sudden, violent jerk which pulled him 
over sideways. He was just able to withdraw 
his feet from the stirrups and swing his leg 
over the pommel when the frightened broncho 
bolted. 

By a skilful movement, Bob managed to 
land on his feet. 

“ PH show ye, pard,” snarled Tom Smull. 
“ Shoved me inter the squash, hey ? I reckon 
as how ye won’t feel any ter the best when I 
gits through with ye.” 

“ Ha, ha, hyar’s whar we gits wengeance ! ” 
shouted Pete Colliver. 

It was a moment of the utmost confusion. 
Riderless horses were swinging wildly over 


The Rambler Club’s 


284 

the uneven ground, while the indignant boys 
rushed up from different points to give aid to 
Bob and Jack. 

A fierce battle was about to be waged, when 
a clatter of hoofs, together with a loud yell, 
caused all eyes to be suddenly turned toward 
the mountain slope. 

“ Hey ! Leave them fellers alone, or every 
hair on yer heads’ll git blowed off! ” 

Men and boys recognized that gruff voice 
and the thick-set figure which sat astride a 
weary-looking mustang. 

“ By all that’s wonderful ; it’s old Cap 
Slater 1 ” yelled Tim Lovell. 


CHAPTER XXII 


CAP TAKES A HAND 

It was indeed old Cap Slater who finally 
came to a halt facing them, and his appear- 
ance created such intense astonishment that 
hostilities were instantly forgotten. 

All stared at the burly captain as though 
some apparition had suddenly risen before 
their eyes. 

“ Wal, wal, if there ain’t actooally the old 
feller ! ” cried Pete in accents of the deepest 
wonderment. “ I never s’picioned as how 
he’d be mean nuff ter hev went an’ follered 
us.” 

“ It’s a great go, all right,” said Jimmy, 
weakly. 

“What does all this mean, Reynolds?” 
bellowed Slater, as his eyes ran over the group 
in a fierce, questioning stare. 

“Means? Why, it means that these men 
have swiped a claim — a claim that rightfully 
belongs to us,” spoke up Bob, as soon as his 
astonishment allowed him to speak. 

285 


286 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ They hev, hey ? ” The answer seemed to 
put Cap Slater into a towering rage ; he 
shook his fist violently in the air. “ Ter 
think that arter all the trouble I has went to 
it were too late ter prewent this ! It’s nuff 
ter make a biled owl blink. ” Slater’s tones, 
too, spoke volumes of disappointment and 
chagrin. “ I want the hull story ; an’ I want 
it quick ! ” 

“ These two men, Smull and Griffin” — Bob 
pointed an accusing finger at the lumberjacks 
— “ held us up and stole our map ; and now 
they want to start a fight.” 

Captain Slater’s face had darkened by de- 
grees, until a heavier scowl had perhaps never 
rested upon it. 

“ The most disgracefulest thing I ever hear 
tell of! Never thought as how ye’d do any- 
thing like that, Jim Reynolds.” 

His voice roared above the steady drone of 
the torrent. 

“ Anybody else would hev done the same 
thing,” mumbled Jim. 

“ I don’t wonder yer voice has got weak. 
I’m a-comin’ closer, so ye kin whisper. ” 

Captain Slater eased his burly form from 


Gold Mine 


287 

the saddle, shook a cloud of dust from his 
travel-stained garments, then strode up to the 
lumbermen. He stood before his former em- 
ployees, a stern figure of a man, like the 
symbol of outraged justice. Under his steely 
glare they seemed to perceptibly wilt and 
shrink away. 

“ Now then, Reynolds,” his jaws clicked 
ominously, “ I'm a-goin’ ter see fair play.” 

“ This hyar ain’t yer lumber camp, Cap,” 
growled Tom Smull. 

“ I want nothing from sich as you. That 
little shrimp o’ a Pete, an’ Griffin, an’ you 
orter be tied up together like a bunch o’ 
herrirT an* dropped clean off the earth.” 

“ When ye was cap’n o’ a floatin’ tub, it’s a 
wonder every man aboard didn’t turn pirate,” 
mumbled Griffin, as he and Smull hastily 
fell back before this outburst. 

“ Ye’d look ’andsomer if ye’d let out a few 
reefs in that face o’ yourn, Griffin,” the 
captain replied grimly. “ Now then ” 

“ Say, captain ! ” 

Bob Somers stepped up and whispered 
something in his ear. 

“ Hey ? ” Slater’s red face took on a be- 


288 


The Rambler Club’s 


wildered expression. He turned, his eyes 
roving in all directions. “ Wliat, Somers ? ” 

Bob spoke quietly a second time. 

The captain’s big, flaming handkerchief 
came out, to mop his face in a vigorous 
fashion. 

“ Roll me down a timber slide if — if ” 

Words seemed to fail him ; he paused, 
while Pete Colli ver looked on in open- 
mouthed wonder. 

“Hey, Jimmy, d’ye pipe that?” he ex- 
claimed, hoarsely. “ They’re crawlin’ a’ready 
— skeered.” 

“ An’ the old un has losted his nerve.” 

“ Yes — bust it ; an’ his voice, too ! ” 

“ Git out, ye little toad. I won’t hev ye 
a-walkin’ on the same ground as I do. It’s 
a positive wonder that grin o’ yourn don’t 
start a landslide big nuff ter kiver up all the 
gold. Come on, lads ! ” 

The lumberman began leading his mustang 
away, while Bob, with a “ Get your broncs, 
fellows ! ” started after his own, which stood 
close by. 

Not far down the slope, in a little bowl- 
shaped valley washed at the foot by the 


Gold Mine 


289 

swirling torrent, Bob Somers and Captain 
Slater, sitting on a boulder, awaited the 
others. 

Dick and Jack were the first to arrive. 

“ Now, for goodness’ sake, Bob, what does 
all this mean ? ” demanded Dick, impatiently. 

“Just this: I believe Reynolds’ crowd 
hasn’t located the mine, after all.” 

“What — what — made a mistake? You 
don’t — you can’t mean it I How ” 

“ Ter my mind, I’ll wenture ter say it’s as 
sartin as that a bullfrog can’t drive an ox- 
team,” remarked the captain, solemnly. 

“ Hold on — wait a minute ! Here come 
the other fellows,” roared Jack, excitedly. 

In a short time they were all together. 

“ Jehoshaphat I ” cried Jack, when Bob 
had begun again. “ Warble your reasons 
fast.” 

“ Listen : didn’t Wanatoma tell us the 
creek flowed through a level plain at the 
base of the mountain ? ” 

There was a moment of thoughtful silence. 

“ I’m sure he did ! ” cried Sam Randall, 
excitedly. “ I remember now. And all 
around us it’s ” 


290 The Rambler Club’s 

“ Hilly, to beat the Dutch.” 

“ I don’t know whether Wanna said the 
gold was at the point where the stream 
reached the base or not,” supplemented Dave, 
“ but he certainly did mention the fact that 
it was where Gold Creek took a big bend and 
that the land was level.” 

“Well, can you beat it?” gasped Tom. 
“ Oh, if it should only be true ! I’ll bet the 
stream changes its course further along.” 

“ Jingo ! Perhaps we were just a little bit 
too quick in gettin’ excited an’ givin’ up the 
game,” murmured Jack. “ Bully thought o’ 
yours, Bob ! ” He seized Tom, and began to 
waltz him around, to the accompaniment of a 
very loud, unmusical whistle. “ Hooray 1 ” 

“ Remember that voice, Jacky ! ” cautioned 
Tim. 

“ Oh, my, oh, my ! but wouldn’t I laugh 
if Bob is right!” blurted out Jack, hilari- 
ously. “ Come on — let’s beat it ! ” Deftly 
tripping Tom, he deposited him in a heap on 
a patch of dried grass. “ Come on ! ” 

“ After such an exciting session, I think a 
recess ought to be taken,” demurred Dave, 
“ unless Captain Slater wants the floor.” 


Gold Mine 


291 


Dave’s words instantly changed thoughts 
into another channel. All eyes turned 
toward the captain ; a bombardment of ques- 
tions pelted him from every side. 

The former skipper waved his hand. 

“ Yer git nuff force back o’ them woices o’ 
yourn ter work a power boat,” he remarked, 
slowly. “ It’s a long story, but it’s quick 
told. How did I hear ’bout the mine? Wal, 
I’ll begin at the beginnin’.” 

The boys listened to the captain’s story 
with the greatest interest, punctuating his 
remarks at frequent intervals by exclama- 
tions. He told them he had ridden back to 
Lovell’s camp, to give warning of the lumber- 
men’s departure, and that the former had 
provided him with all the information he 
could — even a rough sketch showing the 
location. Lastly, Captain Slater said some- 
thing which caused the biggest surprise of 
all: 

“ I hit yer trail once or twicet. ’Member 
that big cliff ’way back yonder ? ” He waved 
his hand. 

“ Bet your life,” answered Jack, with a 
peculiar grin. 


292 The Rambler Club’s 

“ Wal, I think I seen a couple o’ ye from 
the top.” 

“ Great Caesar ! Was that you ? ” cried Tim. 
“ Why, the boys had a camp only about three- 
quarters of a mile from there. How in the 
world did you miss running into it? ” 

“ I hearn shots a-comiiT from the timber ; 
thinks I, mebbe that’s Reynolds’ gang, so I 
gallops over.” 

“ Guess it was Dave and I after game,” 
volunteered Bob. 

“ Wal, I didn’t see nothing but the biggest 
an’ blackest bear in all creation.” The cap- 
tain grinned reminiscently. “ The old nag 
can’t stand nothing wusser ter look at ’n Tom 
Smull’s face ; so he up an’ runs ; an’ splash 
me in that crick, if 1 didn’t begin ter think 
he was a-goin’ ter take me back ter the 
lumber camp.” 

The boys laughed heartily. 

“ I done the best I could fur ye.” 

The crowd’s answer to this was so hearty 
and sincere that, for once in his life, old Cap 
Slater felt slightly embarrassed, and, to con- 
ceal it, he again mopped his face with the big 
red handkerchief. 


Gold Mine 


2 93 


They sat around for some time, and were 
on the point of leaving, when two mounted 
men suddenly appeared on the rim of a rise 
just above them. 

“ Sufferin’ crickets I ” cried Cap Slater, 
with a steady look. “ Bart Reeder an’ — an’ 
— must be a circus nigh abouts, an’, sartin 
sure, that feller’s the ringmaster.” 

Mr. Buck James, looking very large and 
important, in his checkered suit and white 
vest, sat astride a small dejected-looking 
mustang, with his long legs dangling close 
to the ground. Bart Reeder, thin and 
small by contrast, followed on a dun-colored 
pony. 

“ Makes me think of Don Quixote and 
Sancho Panza,” gurgled Dick. “ Wondered 
where the two chaps had gotten to.” 

“ I tell ye, Reeder, this here place is a 
frost,” came from Buck James. “ Outside o' 
one place what Smull an’ Griffin acts cracked 
over, I ain’t seen nuff yellow specks to — 
hello ! ” 

His eyes had suddenly lighted on the 
party. 

“ As I live, Cap Slater ! ” yelled Reeder, in 


294 The Rambler Club’s 

sepulchral tones. “ Great Scott ! Whar — 
whar ” 

“ Captain Slater — the old un I hear so 
much about ? ” queried James, interestedly. 

“ The identical feller,” almost stuttered 
Reeder. “ Whar’d ye come from, Cap ? ” 

“ Me aeroplane is hitched on to the moon 
till I gits ready ter leave,” answered the cap- 
tain, gruffly. “ Toddle on ! An’ when ye 

gits done lookin’ at me, checkers ” 

“ Sir ! ” said Buck James, haughtily. 

“ Sir to you, sir ! An’ I wenture ter say as 
how a suit like that is handy nuff when you 
wants ter hev a game, sir ! ” 

“ Do you know who I am ? ” 

“ I ain’t pertic’lar to learn ; my eyes is hurt 
nuff with them clo’es.” 

Uttering a loud guffaw, the captain turned 
away, and seized his mustang by the bridle, 
while Buck James, highly indignant, lost no 
time in riding away. 

“ Now, let’s follow the stream and see if we 
can find that level stretch and another bend,” 
said Bob, in low tones. “ Hear what James 
said, Dave — a ‘frost’? More I think of it, 
the more certain I feel they’re ” 


Gold Mine 


295 

“ Goin , to have an awful awakening/ 1 
grinned Tim ; “ eh, Jack ? Whoa, little 

codger I ” 

He sprang into the saddle. 

One by one the bronchos clambered up a 
steep bank, and were presently cantering 
briskly over ridges patched with stunted 
spruce and sage brush. On one side lay 
“ Mount Wanatoma ” ; on the other, a vast 
reach extending toward a distant mountain 
chain. 

Gray, threatening-looking clouds, which had 
stretched all morning on the horizon, were 
now advancing, and gusts of chilling wind 
buffeted the riders with unpleasant force. 

After about a half hour’s steady march, 
Sam Randall, some distance to the right of the 
main body, halted, and his shrill whistle 
wafted over soon brought the echoing hoof- 
beats to a stop. 

“ Hello, what’s the matter?” called Bob. 

“ Look — look ! See anything ahead ? ” 

Sam’s excited tones instantly forced atten- 
tion upon the distance. 

“ Goodness gracious ! As I live — a couple 
o’ horsemen I ” cried Tim, with a whoop. 


296 The Rambler Club’s 

“ Where — where ? ” demanded Tom, ear- 
nestly. 

“ Don’t you see ’em — right by that group of 
evergreens ? There — they moved ! ” 

“ Cracky ! I believe you’re right.” 

Tom seemed perfectly dumfounded. 

“ Mebbe a couple o’ hunters,” suggested Cap 
Slater. “ We ain’t quite off the earth yit” 

“ An’ — an’ — why, say — is that a bear they 
have with ’em ? ” blurted out Jack, his eye- 
brows knitting in perplexity. “ Somethin’ 
whoppin’ big, anyhow. Where’s your glass, 
Bob?” 

An animal of no small proportions had 
suddenly popped into view beside the horse- 
men. 

“ What do you see, Somers?” cried Jack, 
eagerly, as the field-glass was leveled. 

A very strange expression came over Bob’s 
face. He stared, apparently in speechless 
astonishment, paying no attention to the 
impatient queries which came from all 
sides. 

“ I say,” howled Jack, “ can’t you speak?” 

“ It doesn’t seem possible,” murmured Bob, 
at length. 


Gold Mine 


297 

His voice indicated the greatest bewilder- 
ment. 

“ What doesn’t seem possible? ” yelled Dick. 

“ I can’t believe it ! ” 

“ Then don’t, but tell us what it is,” cried 
Tim, while Tom, highly excited, cracked his 
quirt so sharply that every broncho immedi- 
ately began to prance about. 

“ Well,” howled Jack, when the animals 
had quieted down, “ for the last time, 
Somers ” 

“ Why — that is Mr. Lovell, Wanatoma, and 
the Great Dane,” was Bob Somers’ astonishing 
answer. 


CHAPTER XXIII 

GOLD ! 

“ Unk and Wanna ! ” cried Tim, incredu- 
lously. “ Get out, Bob ; you can’t stuff me ! ” 

“ Or me, either ! ” 

“ A mighty poor joke ! ” 

14 Didn’t think that o’ you, Somers ! ” 

“Here; look for yourself, Jack !” retorted 
Bob. 

The big lad eagerly seized the field-glass 
and raised it to his eyes. 

“ I’m dreamin’ — I know I’m dreamin’,” he 
mumbled. “ Next minute I’ll wake up an’ 
find myself in the cabin. Booney, is breakfast 
ready ? ” 

“It’s sartingly Lovell an’ the Injun, when 
he gabs like that,” commented Cap Slater. 
“ Wal, if this hyar ain’t nuff ter make a catfish 
act perlite to a cat I ain’t never been scratched 
by a bramble ! ” 

“ Whoop ! ” cried Dick, delightedly. “ Won- 
der what in thunder it all means?” 

298 


Gold Mine 


299 

“ Unk an* Wanna ! ” murmured Tim. “ It 
— it — well, I give it up.” 

“ Come ahead, fellows I ” 

Bob cracked his quirt, and the next instant 
the bronchos were galloping at a reckless rate 
over the uneven surface. 

By degrees the two distant specks began to 
assume the familiar forms of Mr. Lovell and 
the aged warrior. Then a deep-throated bay 
rose above the sound of flying hoofs. 

Bubbling over with joy and excitement, the 
boys gave a chorus of yells ; again came a deep 
bay from the Great Dane, and an answering 
shout from Uncle Stanley. 

Fast as the horses galloped, it was not 
fast enough to suit the impatient riders. It 
seemed as though the intervening space would 
never be covered, and a feeling of relief shot 
through them as they saw the horsemen begin 
to canter in their direction. 

“Unk — I say, Unk, is that really you?” 
called out Tim. “ I can’t believe it’s true, 
even now.” 

“ Yes, Tim ; and I’m mighty glad, as well 
as relieved, to see you, all safe and sound. 
How are you, captain ? ” 


The Rambler Club’s 


3 00 

With the skill of cowboys, the seven brought 
their bronchos close alongside the two men, 
while the Great Dane, still uttering his mu- 
sical bays, capered wildly about. 

Amid the confusion, the din of questions 
and answers, and the stamping of horses’ 
hoofs, Wanatoma, the aged warrior, sat digni- 
fied and silent, though the brightening of his 
eyes told of a feeling of satisfaction. 

“ Now, Lovell, I’m a-waitin’ ter find out 
what all this means.” 

The captain’s big voice boomed out above 
the others. 

“ Wanna, old boy, this is certainly a great 
surprise.” 

Jack had ridden up close to the Indian, and 
was energetically shaking hands. 

“ Quick, Uncle Stanley, do tell us some- 
thing,” pleaded Tim. “ Have you seen those 
lumberjacks? Do you know what Bob Somers 
thinks ? ” 

“ Boys, boys, give me a chance,” laughed 
Mr. Lovell. “ Order, order ! Now, Bob, what 
is your idea ? ” 

“ That the men have staked out the wrong 
place.” 


Gold Mine 


3°i 

Wanatoma, with an approving glance, 
nodded. 

“ The white boy is keen, like Indian brave/’ 
he said, slowly. 

“ Then — then do you really mean to say 
Bob is right?” stammered Tim, with a 
great flash of hope. “ Quick, Uncle Stanley, 
tell us.” 

“ We have already staked out the Rambler 
Club’s Gold Mine!” 

A silence far more impressive than the 
wildest demonstration could have been fol- 
lowed this amazing announcement. The 
boys stared at one another, then at the 
lumberman, and from him to Wanatoma. 

“ I felt sure of it,” said Bob, at length, 
with a great sigh of relief. 

“Just to think of the luck,” mumbled 
Tim. 

“Honest, it seems too good to be true,” 
chirped Tom, breathlessly. 

“ Sartingly beats all creation, that’s what it 
does,” remarked Cap Slater, in a tone of posi- 
tive conviction. 

“ And — and did you really find gold ? ” 
asked Sam. 


3° 2 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ The rocks are filled with specks that 
glitter like the sun,” said Wanatoma. “ Come, 
you shall see. Indian’s work is done ; he is 
content.” 

A certain pathos in his voice stilled a wild 
burst of enthusiasm. The red man, whose 
once powerful shoulders were bent by the 
weight of years, presented a picturesque 
spectacle. Long hair fell loosely over his 
blanketed shoulders ; an eagle feather flut- 
tered in the breeze ; age had dimmed the 
luster of his eyes and lined his face with 
deep-set wrinkles, but the dignity of the 
warrior still remained. 

“ Wal, Wanna, yer the whitest Injun the 
rain ever beat ag’in,” remarked Cap Slater, 
breaking in upon the silence. “ Shake ! ” 

He urged his mustang forward and leaned 
over. 

The gruff old lumberman and the Indian 
clasped hands. One by one, the boys fol- 
lowed his example; then, with a “Come 
ahead, boys,” Mr. Lovell cracked his quirt 
and was off. 

Their ride, which was not long, took them 
through a narrow gorge between two low 


Gold Mine 


3°3 

hills. From this they emerged upon a vast 
level plain, dotted with great clumps of ever- 
greens. 

“ Alia ! .There’s another bend in Gold 
Creek ! See it ? ” cried Bob. 

“ Well, I should say so,” shouted Tim, ex- 
citedly. “ My, what a head you have, Bob 
Somers. Can it be — can it actually be there ? 
Oh, ginger ! Quick — tell us, Uncle Stanley.” 

Mr. Lovell waved his hand, taking a sweep 
of the rugged slope and level stretch at its 
base. 

“ Boys — The Rambler Club’s Gold Mine ! ” 

“ Hooray — hooray ! ” yelled Bob ; and the 
shout which blended in with his grew in 
volume until old Cap Slater himself seemed 
affected by the fever of excitement. 

Presently quirts were given a final crack ; 
the bronchos leaped forward, and, in another 
moment, the crowd caught sight of a lean-to 
near the base of the mountain and in the 
shelter of a pine woods. 

Soon they dropped from the saddle be- 
fore it. 

The efforts of each to be the first to see the 
interior resulted in considerable confusion, 


3°4 


The Rambler Club’s 


which Jack straightened out in his usual way, 
Tim and Dick flying off at a tangent. 

But there was too much suppressed excite- 
ment for the fun to continue long. Hearts 
were beating fast, and their eyes sparkled. 

Wanatoma seized a pick and shovel resting 
in a corner. 

“ Come/’ he said, laconically. 

Skirting around the woods, he led the way 
up the slope, showing a flash of his old-time 
strength and agility. They scrambled after 
him, over turf and rocks, Mr. Lovell and 
Captain Slater bringing up in the rear. It 
was hard work for the ex-skipper, who grunted 
and puffed with the exertion. 

At a considerable distance from the base, 
the Indian halted, while the boys, eager and 
excited, surrounded him. 

“ Great Scott ! to think it’s actually here ! ” 
murmured Bob. 

“ Wow ! Isn’t it grand ? ” piped Tom, with 
an almost irresistible desire to break into a 
wild fit of laughter. 

After a few moments’ rest, Wanatoma raised 
his pick, and began the attack. Soon quartz 
was disclosed. Under the vigorous blows, 


Gold Mine 


3°5 

several pieces were broken off, and rattled 
downward. 

But none got very far — eager hands pounced 
upon them. 

“ Gold — gold ! ” yelled Jack, hilariously, as 
he held up a chunk and waved it back and 
forth, to show a number of gleaming specks. 
“ Gold ! See, fellows— gold I an' piles of 
it ! ” 

In a wild burst of enthusiasm, he seized the 
pick from the Indian’s hands, and attacked 
the ground with furious strokes. Every blow 
sent a shower of earth and stones and small 
pieces of quartz flying in the air and over the 
slope. 

With the perspiration standing out on his 
face, Jack worked away ; and when he pres- 
ently flung aside his pick and knelt beside a 
pile of quartz which the others had collected, 
Tim seized it. 

As the boys saw outcroppings of gold, they 
gave vent to their feelings in sibilant shouts. 
They scrambled still higher up the slope, 
where the rocks rose in miniature cliffs, tufted 
with weeds and vegetation, or crowned by 
bristling prickly pears. 


306 The Rambler Club’s 

Those who hadn’t picks or shovels dug at 
the surface with stones and sticks, exposing 
in places the underlying strata of quartz. 
Small landslides whizzed continuously down. 
Tom slipped, and rolled until a jutting rock 
stopped his progress. Jack, too, in a reckless 
attempt to scale an almost perpendicular wall, 
lost his footing, and went sliding and bump- 
ing in another direction, to pick himself up 
with a hilarious shout. 

But the boys, now in the full grip of the 
gold fever, paid no attention to these mis- 
haps. From one point to another they 
climbed, the sharp clink of the pick blending 
in with their shouts, as new discoveries w T ere 
made. 

“ Never expected to see anythin’ like this,” 
cried Jack, exultantly. “ When the news 
gets out, won’t it make a sensation ? ” 

“The California rush o’ forty-nine’ll be 
beaten to a frazzle,” laughed Tim. 

“ And the Klondike forgotten,” chirruped 
Tom. 

Again Jack seized the pick, and began to 
dig frantically. Then, as if suddenly awe- 
struck at the thought of the wealth which 


Gold Mine 


3°7 


might lay hidden beneath the frowning 
slopes, he straightened up. 

“ Isn’t it wonderful ! ” he exclaimed, softly. 

“ Oh, ho ! ” said Dave Brandon. “ I almost 
have an inspiration for a poem on gold.” 

The violence of the excitement slowly 
began to abate. With aching backs and weary 
arms, they finally flung themselves on the 
rocks, to take long, deep breaths of cool, 
refreshing air. 

“ Now, Unde Stanley,” began Tim. 

“ Oh, yes ; I suppose you are going to tell 
me that explanations are in order,” laughed 
Mr. Lovell, who had seated himself on a slab 
of rock. 

“ That’s the idea exactly.” 

“ I have a powerful strong feelin’ that 
the restaurant department ought ter be got 
a-goin’,” observed Cap Slater, bluntly. 

“ So have I,” added Dave. 

“ Then I proposes an immegiat adjourn- 
ment,” went on the other. “ Yarns sound a 
heap better when ye ain’t a-gittin’ no wireless 
signals o’ distress.” 

With a laugh, Bob seconded the motion. 
Accordingly, the boys rose to their feet, and, 


308 The Rambler Club’s 

in a lively fashion, began scrambling down 
the slope. 

A fire was built, and willing hands kept 
gathering fuel until a great pile rested in 
front of the lean-to. While the meal was 
cooking, Bob, peeping inside, caught sight of 
a pile of snow-shoes. 

“ Hello, Wanna,” he said ; “ think you’ll 
need those things ? ” 

The Indian nodded and pointed to the gray 
sky overhead. 

“ Yes ; soon a heap big snow,” he answered, 
slowly. 

When appetites were finally satisfied, and 
all were content, Mr. Lovell, with the boys 
forming a circle about him, began again : 

“ Our friend here ” — he indicated the 
lumberman — “ has no doubt told you how he 
brought me very disquieting news.” 

“ Disquietin’ nuff ter make this old salt 
holler.” 

“ Well, I felt that you must be intercepted 
at all hazards. The Portland steamer was due 
to pass that afternoon, so my little sailboat, 
the ‘ Penguin,’ was hastily made ready. 
There was a good, stiff wind, and Joe Waller 


Gold Mine 


3°9 

succeeded in putting me aboard the 1 Evergreen 
State.’ ” 

“ An’ maybe it didn’t s’prise us to see you 
on a real, nautical steamboat,” gurgled Jack, 
with a wink at Tom. 

“ And all my efforts and the megaphone 
combined couldn’t make you understand ? ” 

“ Not a word,” said Bob. 

“ Well, it may be for the best, after all. 
Naturally, I expected Don Mason to land you 
at Wild Oak ; but weather sometimes alters 
plans. We arrived in due course at Rawdon, 
and I immediately hurried back to Wild Oak, 
expecting to meet you there. 

“ My disappointment was great on realizing 
that the ‘ Osprey ’ had sailed by. It was 
absolutely necessary for me to return to the 
lumber camp that night. What should I do? 
An answer suggested itself — leave a note at 
the post-office.” 

“ And did you ? ” cried Tim. 

“ Yes ; I thought possibly you might think 
of going there.” 

“ Well, we certainly didn’t,” said Bob, 
cheerfully. 

“ So it seems,” laughed Uncle Stanley. 


310 


The Rambler Club’s 


“ Anyway, I was obliged to hire a rig and 
leave immediately. ” 

“ Wonder how it was we didn’t meet some- 
where on the road,” mused Dick. 

“ The driver told me we could save time by 
taking another route.” 

“ Another route? ” queried Tim. 

“ Yes ; one which, while not so good as the 
main thoroughfare, takes a short cut through 
the woods. As it was, I barely had time to 
catch the steamer. 

“ Wanatoma was at the camp ; and the story 
of the lumberjacks’ visit to his cabin deter- 
mined us to follow you.” 

“ It was certainly a dandy thing to do,” 
said Tim. 

“ A great deal of important business had to 
be left to Warrington. We bought horses at 
Rawdon ” 

“ Not from that ’ere livin’ checkerboard, I 
s’picion,” broke in Cap Slater, with a gruff 
laugh. 

“Oh, no!” Mr. Lovell smiled. “ We 
made no attempt to follow your trail, as both 
Wanatoma and I thought it wiser to push on 
with all possible speed to the mine, stake it 


Gold Mine 


3 11 

out, and then keep a sharp watch for your 
coming. What’s that, Dick — did we know 
the lumberjacks had arrived? Oh, yes; and 
it made us very nervous about you, indeed.” 

“ Glad to see us, I’ll bet,” piped Tom. 

“ I don’t think I was ever more relieved 
in my life,” confessed Uncle Stanley. “ If 
you hadn’t come to-day, Wanatoma proposed 
starting off on a search.” 

“ Oh, ho,” laughed Dave, “ you need never 
have any fear about us.” 

“ The next thing is to get back to civilization 
and file a formal claim with the government,” 
went on Mr. Lovell. “ Wanatoma has most 
kindly agreed to stay here ; and, of course, 
boys, you will show your skill as carpenters 
by building him a comfortable cabin.” 

“ Well, we will — I should rather say so ! ” 
cried Bob, enthusiastically. “ Jolly fun, too ! ” 

“ You bet,” agreed Dick. “ Hooray ! An’ 
we’ll make him a good one.” 

“ And say, boys, I move we call this 4 The 
Jabberwock Mine,’ ” grinned Jack. 

“ Wal,” commented the captain, rising to 
stretch his arms and legs, “ if this hain’t been 
an ewentful day, I never fired a lazy logger.” 


3 12 


The Rambler Club’s 


The next few days were busy ones for the 
seven. The sound of saws and axes reverber- 
ated sharply in the woods, and the sturdy 
little bronchos were used to drag fallen trees 
to the site of the cabin. 

Mr. Lovell was a little fearful, after looking 
over some extraordinary drawings made by 
Jack Conroy, that the boys had laid out for 
themselves a whole winter’s work ; but, by 
carefully avoiding any reference to these in- 
teresting documents, Bob, as engineer, suc- 
ceeded in having constructed a strong, com- 
modious cabin. Bunks and benches were 
built along the walls, and perhaps no architect 
of a world-famed structure ever felt more 
proud of his work than did the boys when 
the cabin was completed. 

Buck James and Bart Reeder wandered 
over, one day, to get the surprise of their 
lives. 

Buck was just as imposing as ever, but his 
expression indicated a subdued and disconso- 
late spirit. 

“ From what I hear, you fellers seem to win 
out every time,” he remarked. “ Weren’t 
that claim no good? ye ask. Wal, there was 


Gold Mine 


3 1 3 

one or two spots whar the rocks showed a few 
specks o’ yaller, but that was all.” 

“ Maybe that suit o’ yourn drived the gold 
away, sir,” remarked Cap Slater, casually. 

Buck James scowled, but paid no attention 
to this observation. 

“ We had sense nuff to soon see thar 
weren’t nuthin’ worth while at that claim, 
but Smull an’ Griffin ” — he made a deprecat- 
ing gesture — “ couldn’t be dragged away. An’ 
Smull told us to chase back to the lumber 
camp if we didn’t like it.” 

Captain Slater guffawed loudly. 

“ So we leaves ’em, and, arter prospectin’ 
about to the east, finds sumphin a bit better, 
an’ put up location notices.” 

. “ An’ where are Smull an’ Griffin now?” 
asked Tim. 

Buck James seemed to bristle up. 

- “ Wal, would ye believe it, arter all our 
trouble, they comes up at last, says as how 
they hadn’t been able to find no more yaller 
streaks, an’, cool as ye please, says they was 
cornin’ in with us ag’in.” 

“ An’ did you let ’em ? ” 

“ We did not ! ” snorted Buck James, his 


The Rambler Club’s 


3H 

capacious chest swelling out with indignation. 
“ ‘ Nuthin’ like that/ says I. They gits huffy 
— so does we, eh, Reeder? — an’ arter two 
minutes o’ talkin’ that ye could have heard 
fur a mile, we chases ’em.” 

“ An’ I guess they know better’n ter ever 
come back,” added Reeder. 

Wanatoma patted the Great Dane’s head. 

“ Ugh I It is well,” he said, “ for they 
have the spirit of the coyote, who sinks his 
fangs into his wounded mate.” 

“ I reckon as how checkers ain’t sich a bad 
feller when ye gits ter know ’im,” commented 
Cap Slater, after the two men had gone. 
“ Lovell, the air’s gittin’ sharper, eh ? ” 

“Yes, captain ! ” 

“ An’ to-morrer we uns leave Wanna all ter 
his lonesome. Wal, I s’picion as how some o’ 
us’ll git back ag’in afore long.” 

They were standing around a fire built just 
outside the cabin. Chilly gusts of wind 
made the flames crackle and roar, while 
showers of embers carried off on the breeze 
danced briskly along over the rocky surface 
which extended before them. A gray canopy 
of cloud stretched overhead. 


Gold Mine 


3 l 5 


The wind, increasing in force, whistled 
around the corners of the cabin, its mournful 
cadence rising high above the sighing of the 
pines. 

“ And just to think,” remarked Dave, 
softly, “ how soon the scene must change — I 
mean our scene. Instead of the wilderness 
and life in the open, it will be the Kingswood 
High School and hard study.” 

“ But spring and vacation time will come 
again,” said Tom. “ I do wonder, Dave, what 
you will have a chance to write about next? ” 
“ You may be sure that, as historian of the 
Rambler Club, my services will be required to 
describe some very interesting and exciting 
adventures, eh, Bob? ” 

And Bob agreed. 


The Other Books in this Series are : 

THE RAMBLER CLUB AFLOAT 

THE RAMBLER CLUB’S WINTER CAMP 

THE RAMBLER CLUB IN THE MOUNTAINS 

THE RAMBLER CLUB ON CIRCLE T RANCH 

THE RAMBLER CLUB AMONG THE LUMBERJACKS 

THE RAMBLER CLUB’S AEROPLANE 


JUN 13 1912 




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